A Chorus Of Bells
by SilverCrystal029
Summary: Daenerys heard the bells but to her, they did not signal surrender. She smiled, thinking of the witch she burned long ago. 'I am the stallion who mounts the world.' She thought. 'Not my unborn, and not even Drogon.'
1. Let It Be

_A/N: This is a story I wanted to write as I watched the past couple of episodes of season 8. I wanted to get my theories and thoughts about how I think the series might end before the finale is aired. I've been theorizing so much I decided to start writing. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

_"Every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin." _

But this really just depended. Define your meaning of _'madness_.' Some would call ancient Daenys The Dreamer, (Daenerys' ancestor, who was a prophet and saw visions) mad for babbling such things of the future. But she correctly predicted the doom that wiped out all other Dragonlord families of Valyria and even their dragons. Some would say it was the evil House Targaryen that_ caused_ the cataclysm. They _were_ the sole survivors with a big talent: dominion over dragons. A smart person would wager: they didn't know. Were the Targaryen's plagued by madness? Was it their inbreeding to preserve their bloodline (or their talents with dragons)? Was it just luck? The gods?

It wasn't that simple. Or maybe it was.

Maybe it was the succession of certain unavoidable events. Maybe it was their tragic destiny, spanning thousands of years, to rule dragons but not over their own madness.

Maybe it was that Daenerys hit her head during the Long Night. She was relatively unharmed after the Night King's defeat, (she had the head of her Queensguard alone to thank for that) but she had flown Drogon into danger to aid Jon. It was a natural decision, if anyone had any shot at killing the Night King it would be him, the Prince Who Was Promised. At least, that's what she thought.

The moment they touched down to torch the undead beasts the wights swarmed her child. It only took a few seconds. A few, frigid seconds. Then the zombies were clawing at her fur. Tearing at Drogon's skin. It was what she would imagine hell to be like. It was so cold, so barren, and the dead surrounded them on every side. Dozens of them were at her back. She had no choice, she had to dismount. Drogon would not shake himself free with her on his back, and she knew that enough wights would overcome even her son, the _Stallion Who Mounts The World_. The Night King cared not for prophecies.

She slid off and tumbled to the frozen ground. Her right temple collided with the frozen tundra, making the Khaleesi a bit dizzy. The event makes her see stars, little trails of light exploding into her view. The fires and war raged around her as she struggled to calibrate her mind. The ringing in her ears would've annoyed her if she wasn't about to die. This couldn't be how her legend ends. She scrambled backwards and out of harms way, and it was Ser Jorah who saved her.

But nobody knew Daenerys had hit her head. Maybe Varys would've had the best doctors take a look at her, make sure hysteria was not a result. He _wouldn't_ have started back-tracking his claim towards her for the realm. He wouldn't have tried to blatantly get Jon to vie for the throne _just_ to prove how far gone Dany was to a loyal guy like him. He would've understood the sudden change in her demeanor, the quiet madness in her eyes they hadn't seen since they were across the Narrow Sea and situations called for it.

But nobody knew. Nobody knew slowly, but surely, Danaery's sanity was unravelling. Her mind was fraying with every new stress. Slipping away, one dark look at a time, she kept her growing paranoia to herself. And with nobody to quell her fears they grew like wildfires, destroying her true good and just nature. Yes, the Mother Of Dragons was growing frustrated by her losses. Her very great, personal losses and little thanks from the North.

Even her connection with Jon had flickered away once he revealed she was his aunt and _he_ was the true heir to the throne. The Starks, hell,_ Westeros_ knew of the Targaryen inbreeding practice and they had their unspoken bonds with dragons to show for it. Why did it bother him so? Was it _really_ their ancestry, or the fact that he bent the knee to the Dragon Queen when_ he_ was the true heir, Aegon Targaryen.

The thought made her blood boil hotter than her son's flame breath. A thousand prickly needles filling her heart like a voodoo doll. The longer she sat on it, the more she was convinced. She had rode her dragon, fought her dragon,_ lost_ her dragon for the North's cause. For the thanks of one wildling and a bastard everyone insisted was King. She lost half her precious Dothraki, who were there by her side almost as long as Ser Jorah. Half her Unsullied who pledged their lives to her and followed her as Khaleesi of their own volition.

She lost her son, shot down like poultry. His body lost to the sea...

Missandei lost her head and Cersei cushioned herself with meat shields. Even if the Great Lion, Queen Cersei, had the most painful, righteous, deserved death it would not make up for what she put Daenerys through. It was her selfishness that caused her army's great losses. Lost her another dragon. She swore her men to fight the common cause and she left Daenerys to take the hit. Now, the Breaker Of Chains had to shackle thousands of innocents to death in order to take her throne.

Daenerys wasn't mad. Cersei had _made_ her mad._ She_ wrote her ledger. She was forcing her reign and that's what killed Daenerys most of all. But maybe, even with this adversity, she could've kept it together. Kept her head. It was nothing different from the rest of her life. The child had been born during a literal storm, full of flames and suffering. Maybe if she hadn't hit it all the way during the Long Night...

Maybe if she hadn't confused what she heard with her destiny.

_"A targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing..."_

* * *

Varys was fidgety. It was the first thing Jon noticed as they docked on Dragonstone. He was waiting to receive him, not Grey Worm or even Tyrion. The man got in his head too much, working plans and plotting. Jon could not deny his intelligence or wisdom, but he was aware that both had plenty potential to get a man into trouble. And trouble was what seemed to lurk in the eunuch's eyes these days. The more he pled with the queen and his pleas were left unanswered, the more turbulent became those dark eyes.

He stifled a sigh as he approached, men rallying the boat behind him.

"The Northern armies..." The older man asked, falling into stride with the northerner. Jon squinted.

"Just crossed the Trident. They'll be o'er the walls of King's Landing in two days." He reported. Varys nodded. A beat of silence passes between them, and Jon is kicking himself for not being there for Daenerys sooner. He found being around her post the Long Night awkward at best. He was seriously disturbed by their relation and by some of Dany's actions (even if he dare not say it).

But she lost_ two dragons_ for them. She lost half her unbeatable army for the North. She let Cersei become a player in the Game Of Thrones again, for _Jon._ He had sworn fealty to her. He had sworn her his life. His word was his bond, if Eddard Stark had taught him anything, that was it.

"How is she," He asked Varys finally, his face lost in thought. The man's face fell.

"She hasn't seen anyone since we've returned." He explained solemnly. "Hasn't left her chambers, hasn't accepted any food..." Jon shook his head._ 'After all the help, all she gave to the North and the realm... And this is what she gets.'_

"She shouldn't be alone." He pressed._ 'She'll see me.'_ He left unsaid. He found it hard to be around her. She wanted something that he just couldn't give, not anymore. Not since he found out the truth. He knew it was usually the Targaryen way, but he was still a Stark.

"You're worried for her," Varys began his tone unreadable. "I admire your empathy." Jon sent him a worried look.

"Aren' _you_ worried for her?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I worry for all of us." He responded, rather smug. Jon rolled his eyes. He had no time or energy for riddles. "They say every time a Targaryen is born the gods toss a coin, and the _world_ holds its breath." The younger man's head craned painstakingly slow to Varys. _'Does he speak treason?'_ He thought to himself, unsure of what to address or utter first.

"We're not much for riddles where_ I'm_ from." He answered, thinking of his departed father, the only father he ever knew. Varys nodded sympathetically and left the opportunity for jokes slide. He gave an indignant huff.

"We_ both_ know what she's about to do." He answered. Jon stopped walking and positioned himself a bit in front of Varys, his mouth agape.

"And that is_ her_ decision to make, she is _our_ queen." He answered breathlessly, studying Varys' face. _'What does he have to gain from this, now?'_

"The men decide where power resides, whether or not they know it!" Jon's hand hovered slightly over his sword, staring at Varys very closely now.

"What do you want?" He demanded finally, unsure he actually wanted an answer.

"All I've ever wanted?" He stepped closer to Jon. "The right ruler on the Iron Throne." Jon searched his face but he knew that he couldn't trust him at face value. If he had learned anything from his journey past the wall and back, every ruler was the same. Nothing changed. The White Walkers didn't even change anything. The wheel kept spinning. The right ruler was subjective, but _honor_ wasn't. Varys sent him a pleading look. "I still don't know how her coin as landed. But I'm _quite_ certain about yours."

Jon walked around in the vision of Ned Stark, arguably the most honorable man in Westeros. There was no more of a perfect person for the throne, but neither man wanted it. One of them had died because of it. Varys would be damned if he let Jon humble himself to the grave, no matter how determined to he was.

Jon was silent for a long moment, smelling the salty air around them. "I _don't_ want it. I never have." He clenched his fists in frustration. _'Nothin' good has ever come of me runnin' anything.'_ He thought of the Night's Watch and the Wildlings.

"I have met more kings and queens than any person living. I have heard them speak to crowds, I've seen what they do in the shadows." Varys shook his head, his brow furrowed. "I have furthered their designs, however horrible... But what I tell you now, is true." Jon's eyes narrowed, knowing he wouldn't like what else he had to say. "You will rule wisely and well, while she-"

"_She_," Jon barked, his eyes black. "Is my queen." Jon went the rest of the way to Daenerys's quarters alone.

* * *

She had never looked quite like this.

Nobody around her had ever seen but she was a haunting image of her brother. The Mad Viserys. The circles under her eyes were purple and boozy, the worry and exhaustion evident on her face. Her light hair still looked silky and soft, but it was frizzy and untangled. Her intricate hairstyles had devolved in the wake of Missandei's death, it made Tyrion feel sad. He knew he had not been her favorite person as of late. All her favorite people seemed to be dead, and he had to fear for the state of the queen's head and heart.

He approached her in the shadows, knowing his mere approach could result in death by fire if it was ill timed. If he wanted to live they would have to speak about Varys, no matter the consequences. No matter how bad he didn't want to do it.

He swallowed and searched for courage as he watched her, standing leaned against the window, watching Jon and Varys talk. "Your Grace," He almost whispered. "There's something you need to know." He held his breath.

She didn't turn and face him, she was watching Varys and Jon still. "Someone has betrayed me." There was a strange element in her voice he'd never heard before. It was threatening. He watched her closely.

"Yes,"

She turned suddenly, her appearance shocking him. She was still as stunning as always but he hadn't seen her look so wild and undone before. He tried not to be ruffled by how she looked. "Jon Snow." Her lips barely move when she says it, her voice surprisingly even. It's then, he realizes, that this goes deeper than Varys' conspiring, and he was certain she already knew of that.

Tyrion decided that he needed to move very carefully, even as the Hand of his queen. "Varys." He breathed, not making any sudden movements.

He gives Daenerys a break, thinking about what she'd been through the past couple of months. She singlehandedly saved the realm, lost her dragons to two horrid enemies (Euron of all things, and the Night King). The personification of evil. And then she felt no love for riding her dragon into the crosshairs when she had other things to do. He empathized with her feelings.

He really did.

Her eyes narrow slightly. "So, he knows the truth?" Tyrion blinks.

"He does." She faces him fully.

"Because _you_ told him." Another beat of silence. "You learned from Sansa, who learned from Jon, whom I _begged_ not to tell her. As I was saying," She turned her attention back to the window. "He's betrayed me." Tyrion shook his vehemently. _'He is most loyal to you of all.'_ He thought but he didn't think it wise to say so right now. Daenerys seemed like she was in the mood for taking things personal.

"Your Grace," Tyrion said gently, as though he was talking to Drogon. "I am_ glad_ Sansa told me." He feels the temperature in the room drop ten degrees. "As your Hand, I need to be aware of any threats to you. To you _or_ your claim." Her lips are barely turned up but it's not a smile on her face.

"And Varys?" She pressed, wondering why it was important for the eunuch to know such things. Everyone knew he couldn't keep a secret.

Tyrion sighed. "The Master Of Whispers needed to know as well." She cocked an eyebrow. Then, she stepped closer to the small man. Her aura was suddenly intimidating in a way it never had been before. Someone's blood would be shed tonight.

"You spoke to him first." Her words rang out in the large room. "_Without_ my permission._ Without_ coming to me about it." She glared at the imp, wondering what, if anything, he had added of value to her kingdom. It didn't feel like much lately. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Why is it, do you think, that Sansa told you in the first place?" Her tone was starting to remind him of his sister, and it was making him weary. "_What_ do you think she hoped to gain?"

"Sansa _trusts_ me." He urged. Her eyes narrowed again.

"She trusts you?" She repeated. "Yes, she_ trusts_ you. She trusted you to spread secrets that could destroy your own queen." Tyrion hung his head. "And you did not let her down."

"Your Grace," He bowed again. "If I have failed you, my queen, _please_ forgive me. It was a mistake." Daenerys inhaled. Her face was impassive but her eyes were saying a thousand things. None of which, Tyrion wanted to see directed towards himself. It was a quiet rage deserving of Cersei, or slavers in Meereen. Not for the queen's Hand. She had never resembled a dragon more.

"My intentions were good," He continued. "We want what you want, a better world. _All_ of us. Varys as much as anyone." The look on Daenerys' face began to look amused, and that's when Tyrion knew it was a lost cause for his friend. "But it doesn't matter _now,_ does it?" He can see the tears hidden beneath the indignant rage burning in her eyes. Daenerys is exhausted. She is tired of fighting. And she was tired of losing. For so long she fought a battle that wasn't hers, yet how soon everyone else had forgotten.

"No," She agreed. "It doesn't matter now." She turned away from the small man, resuming her gazing as though she never stopped. Tyrion took it as his cue to take responsibility for what he'd done and leave.

* * *

There was no question in Varys mind when he heard the soldiers' thundering footsteps. It was his time to die. He had to wonder if the realm was worth trying to save or dying for. He had tried to guide it, advise it, protect it to seemingly no avail. From a queen who would blow up her own people to the queen who will burn the whole kingdom down and start from scratch. It had become clear that the realm couldn't win.

And yet, he still tried. If Daenerys would kill him for trying protect everyone, even her, well then certainly someone would have to see her true colors. One would think Lord Varys, the eunuch, had nerves of steel the way he was facing his impending death.

But it was not bravery, simply knowledge, like everything else.

_"I will return, dear Spider. One last time." Red Priestess Melisandre had said in reference to Westeros. "I have to die in this strange country, just like you do." All the color had drained from Lord Varys' face that day. He hated magic. He hated witches and priestesses, all of them. They always knew too much. He rarely ever spoke about his experience in the flames and yet there they were. _

_Like the story of how he'd become a eunuch. _

_Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Red Temple in Volantis, had known immediately that Varys was altered and had his body had been sacrificed for magic, specifically. _

_"Terrible things happen for a reason," She said smugly, pleased to see Varys uncharacteristically ruffled. "Take what happened to you, Lord Varys." He began to back away from her, suddenly feeling threatened. "When you were a child. If not for your mutilation at the hand of a second-rate sorcerer, you wouldn't be here helping the Lord's chosen bring light into the world. Knowledge has made you powerful but there's still so much you don't know." She smiled at him and it made him feel cold._

_"Do you remember what you heard that night when the sorcerer tossed your parts in the fire?" She smiled at the cadaver-like expression on Varys' face. "You heard a voice call out from the flames, do you remember?" She continued. "Should I tell you what the voice said? Should I tell you the name of the one who spoke..." _

_Varys pulled away from her like she was hot to the touch. The priestess never continued, but she didn't have to._

_She said their queen would cleanse King's Landing in Fire & Blood._

_"I still dream of that night..." He told Tyrion years ago. "Not of the sorcerer, not of the blade- I dream of the voice from the flames." Varys' expression glazed over. "Was it a god, a demon, a conjurer's trick? I don't know. But the sorcerer called and a voice answered and ever since that day, I have hated magic and all those who practice it..." _

_What did the voice in the fire say?_

_"You will join me, Varys." Just remembering the voice brings a chill to his heart. "No matter where you go, no matter what you do you will return to the flames." _

As the Unsullied, led by Grey Worm, appeared at his chamber doors, he never had a clearer idea of what that meant. He'd always thought if he served Daenerys she wouldn't burn him. But he couldn't serve her over the realm, not anymore. He knew from the moment his little sparrow mentioned them watching her. It was time for him to return.

He wasn't scared so much as disappointed. There was a time he believed they had escaped the prophesied Targaryen madness. He thought he had found a solution for the realm. They had a just and fair ruler, a liberator. She had broken chains and she would break the wheel. Now, Varys was certain she _was_ the wheel. A magnified Cersei. If his death could help break it, he would die for the realm. Besides, there's nothing as futile feeling of knowing your manner of death. Varys already had stalled the inevitable for as long as he could. It would stall no longer.

He was marched silently in the dark, chained. Nobody said a word. Dany stood illuminated by the lit pitchforks. In some fire's light, she looked angelic. Others, like she came from hell. Varys kept the thoughts to himself.

He stared at Jon for a long time, his hair in the small top knot just like his father always wore. He was more Ned than maybe his true born children. He couldn't fault the northerner for telling Daenerys, but he was surprised when his height challenged friend approached.

"It was_ me_," Tyrion croaked, unable to watch Varys die in the literal dark. He seemed surprised for a second before nodding, resigning to his fate.

"I see." Is all he says. Not everyone knows they're to die by dragon fire, he can't blame him either. The world without him will certainly need Tyrion Lannister. "I understand." A vice grips Tyrion's heart. He never regretted backing Daenerys but he might now as he watched this atrocity helplessly. "I hope that I deserve this, _truly_. I do." He can hear the sincerity and a rare vulnerability in his friend's voice. "I hope that I am wrong. Goodbye, old friend." Tyrion shook his head while being ushered back but silent Unsullied.

Varys blinked and faced forward, studying Daenerys' face one last time._ 'We were so close...'_ He thought, remembering how he felt when he heard the remaining Targaryen heir was liberating slave countries and not conquering with fire and blood. '_It was nice while it lasted...'_ He thought, closing his eyes. His long night had come. He had avoided this dance for as long as he could.

Daenerys stared at him unflinchingly. "_Lord Varys_." He swallows and stands as straight as he can in the chains. "I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of my name, Breaker of Chains, and Mother Of Dragons sentences you to die." Jon felt like he'd been punched in the gut as he stood beside her. He tried not to question his queen, really, he did. Nor did he have any interest in ruling. But the words of Ned Stark rang in his ears.

_"If you have a rule, you have to enforce it." Ned explained, blessing and cleaning up the remains of an execution. Jon was only fifteen at this point. He had a hair full of curly, dark hair like Robb and fair skin, but a face unlike any Stark or Tully in the family. Sansa looked like Catelyn did in her youth, a classic, northern beauty that Littlefinger fell for all over again. _

_And Arya look looked like Lyanna and Ned combined, the perfect image of the two. But Jon didn't really look like anybody in the family. He was not Catelyn's, it was the Stark's worst kept secret. Honorable Ned had strayed during war and fathered a bastard. If Ned wasn't such an honorable guy people would've sworn something was up. _

_"I know it doesn't seem fair," He told him. Ned did his best to treat the boy like one of his own, the rest of his family. Theon had been forsaken by the Greyjoys and he could see how it affected him. He struggled to instill Jon with the values that would make him a good man. "But the law in the North is if you desert the wall, you're executed." Jon nodded, wondering if that was where he'd end up in a few years. _

_"But listen to me boy, if you're ever lord of anywhere..." It was unlikely, Jon was a northern bastard. Still, Ned had high hopes. "If you ever have to enforce this rule, you let them have a last word." He stared deep into Jon's dark eyes. "The old gods, the new... None of them look kindly upon a mortal sending another to the afterlife with unfinished business." _

_They looked down at the blood splatter on the frozen ground. "You'll bring nothing but darkness into your life for doing something like that..." _

Drogon moved around his mother, baring his fangs viciously. Varys swallowed, staring into the beast's eyes. "Dracarys." Daenerys said simply. With a hellish shriek, Drogon obeyed and lit Varys aflame. Everyone stood in silence, Daenerys, the Unsullied, Tyrion, and Jon. Varys didn't utter a word before Drogon descended upon him. _'What has she done...'_ He thought, staring at the smoldering spot where Varys once was.

Tyrion kept his eyes trained on the ground. He feared he may cry if he watched Varys go up in flames, and then he could be next. He hated thinking it but he knew it was true. He had sympathized with enough of Daenerys' enemies.

Jon watched as Daenerys watched Varys burn, an unreadable expression on her face._ 'She should've let him speak,_' He thought, thinking of Ned._ 'But Varys tried to have me betray Dany, I don't know what I am to her...'_ His gaze dropped to the ground. _'But he dishonored her reign. He deserved to burn.'_ He looked at his feet. _'So why do I feel bad?'_

Daenerys turned suddenly on her heel and exited, leaving Varys' charred corpse for someone else to worry about. Grey Worm followed her closely, the rest of the Unsullied on their heels.

* * *

Cersei knew what she had done. That she had not just beheaded Daenerys little girlfriend. She had a name. Missandei of Naath. She had been born a slave and was liberated by her Khaleesi. She transformed from slave to a trusted queen's advisor. She took control of her own destiny. She was, perhaps, the one woman to genuinely love Daenerys. As her Khaleesi. As her Queen. As her _dear friend._

Daenerys made sure she was never in chains again, not even by their relationship.

_She stared into the horizon, her three healthy dragons flying with each other in the sky. She can hardly remember what it's like to have so many dragons. Now she only has one, precious son. _

_They watched the waves crash on Dragonstone, the salty scent floating to their nostrils. Today, they feel like they can do anything. The sun was shining on Daenerys Targaryen, and the Iron Throne would be hers. The women joined hands in silence, having perfected the art of simply existing around each other. _

_"You know," Daenerys began. "If things become too hard or dangerous..." She looked into the beautifully complected woman's eyes. People ranted and raved about Targaryen females, their startling beauty. Their features women would die for. People bowed to Daenerys on sight just from the knowledge of her features. But she always thought her beauty paled in comparison of Missandei of Naath. _

_"I don't bind you to the same oath I do as Jorah or my hand." She stared into the horizon, and tried to contemplate Missandei leaving her. "You can go. You lived enough of your life as a slave." She turned and faced her seriously. "You certainly won't live as mine." Missandei bites her lip and tries to hide her smile. The only thing she loves as much as Grey Worm is her queen. _

_"I have never been your slave." She looked out to the dragons screeching and soaring through the air. "I am at home beside my queen until the end of my days." Daenerys exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding even though she wasn't surprised. She couldn't be without Missandei, she needed her by her side. Always. _

She ripped herself from a daydream as she stared at the rusted chains. "_These,_" Daenerys' eyes begin to water and she becomes frustrated. "These are all..."

"Her only belongings." Grey Worm finished, his voice very quiet. She had never heard him sound like this before.

"It's the only thing she brought with her when we sailed across the _Narrow Sea..._" She handed the chains back to him, they were too painful for her to hold. He tossed them into the fire bitterly. "It's unfair." She breathed. "I should've given her the castle filled with riches she _deserved."_ She seethed, her eyes going black. Grey Worm placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Missandei needed no riches." He asserted. "_Only_ her queen." His gaze floated to the fire. Daenerys' gaze softened.

"And you." They locked eyes and shared a look that only those loved by Missandei could share. Grey Worm tensed when Jon approached, standing at the steps awkwardly.

Though the general was few of words, Jon felt the Unsullied understood Dany far better than he could. It didn't make him jealous, he felt relieved somebody could relate to her without Missandei, he had begun to worry. Grey Worm stood unmoving. He didn't trust Jon and neither did Daenerys anymore.

"It's alright,_ Torgo Nudho_. Let me speak with him." Grey Worm exhaled with exasperation. Varys had proved it, if you hadn't been with Daenerys since the beginning you couldn't be trusted. He didn't want to leave the Khaleesi alone, but he could tell from the look in her eyes she'd be fine. He sent a lingering glance at Jon as he passed by.

She stood and crossed the distance to him, her light eyes boring into his dark ones. "What did I say?" She began, her voice trembling. "_What_ did I say would happen if you told?" He sighed, staring down at her. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful? He still woke up some nights aching between the legs for Ygritte, and ever since no girl had turned his head. That is, until Daenerys Targaryen. She was the antithesis to a northern woman. Warm, bright haired, olive-skinned.

But none of this changed the fact they were related. His father was not Ned Stark, as he previously thought. He was technically a Targaryen, and he had heard all about the inbred madness plaguing them. Incest wasn't so taboo those days, just look and Cersei and Jaime Lannister to start. But it was taboo to _Jon,_ and no matter which way he tried to look at it he couldn't get over it. No matter how badly she wanted him to.

He really did love her. As his queen, and maybe a different way once before. But not since he found out his lineage. He was fine with sacrificing the throne but he couldn't change his feelings, no matter how much it hurt her. That was the beginning of the end. He sighed, staring at her unkempt hair and the dark bags under her eyes. She was still beautiful this way, albeit wild looking. She looked dangerous, and for all Jon knew she was.

He stroked her face with his thumb. "I don't want it," He pleaded, staring into her eyes. "_That's_ what I told him. Why don't you believe me-" She wrenched free from his grip, her lip twitching slightly with aggression before doing so.

Jon wishes he never met her sometimes. Not for his sake. He was a Stark at heart, being loyal and honorable was second nature. But Daenerys had done nothing but_ lost_ since she met him, and it was weighing on his heart. Her trusted advisors and basically her family, her loyal armies, maybe even her mind fighting death and against the Night King.

Maybe the realm should've ended if it would've kept this girl happier. She had only known strife since her first breath. Jon could understand why his father could not reconcile with slaughtering the baby of a defunct house. She had saved the north. She had saved the world. And now, Jon was bound forever to her reign. No matter what the cost.

"Your sister betrayed your trust." Jon blinks and fights his instinct to respond. She was his queen, but no bond came above family.

_"The lone wolf dies but the pack survives..."_ The Starks who had survived definitely had by sticking together when they could.

_'But how can I expect her to understand...'_ Daenerys had spoke candidly of her abuse, of the horrors of the childhood, the horrors of almost being betrayed even by the people she trusted the most. Her brother had been murdered and her life was better for it. All Jon ever _had_ was his family. _'She doesn't understand how I can't choose between her and family, she's never had to make a choice. The throne is her family, it's her only connection to them... That Keep.'_

"She killed Varys as much as I did." She said, standing close to him again. "This is a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people learn the truth about _you._" Her stare hardened. "How do I know that wasn't your plan all along?" Jon shut his eyes and muttered a prayer. She stepped closer to him.

"_Dany,_" He breathed, cupping her face in his hands. "How can I prove to you I don't want the throne. That I'll _never_ want the throne._ You_ are. My queen." She stared into his dark eyes, wanting so bad to believe him.

"_Swear it,_" She hissed, pointing at the ground. "Swear your fealty to me, _again_." He can hear the desperate edge in her voice and she sounds like a little girl. Without hesitation he bends, sliding to one knee and staring up at her.

"I bend the knee, _Dany_." He whispered. She remembered when he refuse to give an inch for the North, wanting her support for a mysterious war against ice men. Now, look how far they'd come. She dragged a slender hand through his dark hair, fiddling with his bun.

"Far more people love_ you,_ than love me." She said suddenly, her hand shaking._ 'Even though I rode my dragons, lost my dragons. My armies...'_ "But they still call _Cersei,_ Queen. They still call _you_ King." She tugged on his hair slightly but he ignored the pain.

The girl had never been loved. She got a glimpse of something close and she almost lost everything over it. Jon had observed enough of the Dothraki to imagine what her first marriage must've been like. It must've been as hard as his poor sister's marriage to Ramsay. He tightens a fist suddenly. He could almost revive and re-murder Littlefinger for what he put Sansa and his entire family through.

He didn't always see eye to eye with his red-haired sibling, but he would murder a man for thinking far less about her.

He couldn't imagine being surrounded by people trying to manipulate him or expecting him to save them. And he remembers her talking to him about Jorah.

_Jon watched the tender, private moment Daenerys has with the bodies of her fallen armies. Her Dothraki general. And then, she got to Jorah's body. Jon wasn't good with words or feelings. Perhaps terrible at both. He knew the woman felt alienated and abandoned by him, and though she couldn't tell he cared for her a great deal. It was painful to watch her mourn the man who'd been by her side for nearly a decade. _

_She looked confused and almost uncomfortable around Stark family interactions. Her advisors, her people, her armies were her family. Jon understood that now. _

_He watched as she fought tears, bending over to kiss the man one last time. She whispered in his ear, a tear sliding down her cheek to his. Jon approached, staring at the kind man. _

_"I did not know Ser Jorah well..." He said after a while, a hand on Daenerys' back. "But I do know there is not another way he would've wanted to die besides for his queen." The man loved her, perhaps the whole realm knew it. Jon did not feel jealous or angry. She deserved that love. She was his queen. She tried to smile, humbled by his words. _

_"He loved me." She said finally. 'Maybe he was the only man who loved me...' Her hand was still on Jorah's stiff shoulder. "And I could not love him back." She says it like it's a flaw, like it's her biggest regret. Jon thinks of all those mornings he spent waking up to Ygritte and how she died probably hating him. He knew a lot about regrets. _

Love was synonymous with pain for Daenerys.

And yet she craved it so bad it was driving her mad. She stared into Jon's face. '_Why him,'_ She thought bitterly. '_Why this man? Why do I love my nephew...'_ It was the most Targaryen thing ever, and she hated that. She loved Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen. Hundreds of years ago, they would've written sonnets and war songs about them, but not now. She had let herself love and all she'd gotten out of it was dead dragons and dead armies.

_'Love is not a part of the Game Of Thrones...'_ She told herself bitterly. It disgusted her, it made her weak that this bumbling northerner made her feel things, things that had almost cost her the throne. He _was_ blocking her from the throne, it was the most forbidden thing she could think of. She was tired of fighting it. She wanted the throne and Jon Snow_ too,_ and if she didn't get both she wasn't sure what she might do...

She can't help but think he secretly conspired for the throne. But as she looked down upon him, she doesn't care. She just wants to be touched. To forget the troubles piling up on her back. To feel for a moment more that he may fill her with a dragon despite being barren. She wanted him. She wanted to_ feel._ She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and love her like he did after she lost Viserion.

He stares up at her and thinks that he loves her. But he will have to love her from afar.

Starks are not actors. Stars are not pretenders. And he can never _pretend_ that he doesn't know.

"I don't have _love_ here." She told him, stroking his hair. "_Only fear_." Jon shook his head no.

"_I_ love you," He assured, standing. "You will always be_ my_ queen." She watched him closely. Once, that had been all she wanted to hear. Now, she needed more.

"Is that _all_ I am to you?" She challenged, watching his face for micro-aggressions. She mashed her face to his desperately, and for a moment he didn't fight it. This was all he wanted too, for everything to go back to the way it was before he learned his true name was Aegon. But a bell cannot be unrung. And their love would never be as sweet.

She pressed against him, her longing feeling desperate to him. She savored it for as long as she could because she knew the feeling would fade. Too many questions, too many doubts. _'Too many disappointments...'_ She thought. He pulled away from her, closing his eyes. She dropped her hands from around him, her face blank.

"Alright then." She sniffed. "Let it be fear."


	2. Battle Of The Bells

_Daenerys watched, proud that even her unruly Drogon loved Ser Jorah as much as she did. She had never seen her dragons respond to a non-Targaryen this way. She knew her dragons. Her children. She knew. They mirrored her adoration for the exiled man. Their relationship had its highs and lows. Betrayals and exiles of their own, but nobody fought to or for their Khaleesi like the Mormont._

_They say a father is a woman's first love, Daenerys never knew hers. But she knew a love so pure, so strong, not even Grey Scale kept the man away. For his Khaleesi, he broke history. _

_She had grown, and changed, and even though forgiveness wasn't the first quality Targaryen's brought to mind, she could not ignore the man's wholehearted devotion. Something even her beasts recognized on a spiritual level. Jorah Mormont was made differently than other people. Other men. Even her dragons needed no other man by her side. _

_Before all the people, all the armies, and the throne was in sight... There was Jorah. _

_"I owe them to you." They both looked up at her towering dragon. He turned to her in shock. Daenerys Targaryen knew the worth of her name and what was owed to her. It was a rare, private, and humble moment with the queen. His eyes crinkled in the corner as he looked at her, full of adoration no doubt. It wouldn't matter to him if she screamed "Fire & Blood" over and over at him, if it was all she ever said... She was his queen. She was his queen the moment he laid eyes on her..._

_Her platinum hair spun like gold around her. He reached out and touched a stray, soft lock. _

_"Whatever do you mean, Khaleesi? I had no part in making you dragon-born." She smiled at him. Nobody ever propped her up as he did. _

_"My brother..." His gaze hardened. He hadn't tossed a thought to the girl's mad brother in years. The memories left a bad taste in his mouth when he remembered how Viserys treated her. 'If he were still around, Khaleesi would've given him the treatment Khal Drogo did.' He thought that proudly, he couldn't help but admire in the ways Daenerys had grown from a young girl to a queen. His queen. "He plotted to take them away from me, thinking I would never be strong enough to tame them." _

_Jorah remembered. "If he had lived, your dragons would've burned him themselves." She smiled a little. There was never any doubt her dragons would've picked her, evidence of how far she'd come and he hadn't was enough. _

_"Yes," She agreed, her face a little smug. "But, I was different back then... I was looking to him to guide me, then Khal Drogo-"_

_"And then yourself, Dany." He said gently. "You grew, as we all do." He cupped her flawless face with a hand. "None of this should be attributed to me." She smiled at him and his heart swells up like a balloon._

_"You protected me, all of us. As you always have. I was not the Khaleesi then I am today. I owe that to you." He decided to soak in the moment of praise, it was like heroin to him. _

_"I would do anything for you, Khaleesi." He breathed, trying to drag himself away from her eyes. He failed as usual. "It is nothing to thank me for, but you're welcome. Your Grace." She finally feels satisfied that Jorah has some idea of how important he is to her. Drogon seems to sniff in approval, settling himself in a comfortable position. Daenerys' stare becomes proud. _

_"He is his true self with you. When I am with you, he relaxes." She stared up at her child in wonder. "Not even Jon..." Jorah smiles to himself. Jon was a nice man, a lot like Ned Stark. That was his problem, he was a little too green for the remaining princess of House Targaryen. But he made her happy. Who was he to deny that? "It's like they know, even then you protected them."  
_

_Jorah tossed a look at Drogon that was full of respect. He had lived long enough to learn a lot about dragons, even before he'd seen one. The Targaryens and many others speculated the dragons could be just as smart as humans or way smarter. He had certainly seen her dragons act independently and do things that dictated cunning. He didn't doubt they could judge souls. The pure, strong soul of their mother and his soul's devotion to protecting her. _

_He rubbed a calloused hands over Drogon's scales. The beast made a contented growl and Jorah chuckled. _

_"It is my honor to serve dragons and their queen."_

Daenerys was atop Drogon's back, and as usual, she had a lot of choices.

"Ring the bell!"

_"Ring_ the bell!"

"Ring the bells!_ Ring them_!"

"Ring the bells already!"

The chorus of screams from the people of King's Landing tore her from her daydream. Retreating in her mind was the only way she could get Jorah's comfort and wisdom back. He died protecting her from the Army Of The Dead, and for what? Cersei's betrayal might as well have beheaded him. She withheld her troops and doomed everyone to certain death to keep the throne. And it _killed_ Jorah.

_'A selfish queen such as she doesn't care for the cries of her people...'_ She thought, shaking her longing for her old friend from her mind. The Game Of Thrones does not care what you want._ 'She will not let her men surrender, and I will be forced to siege the city. That is the only I can take the throne.'_ She repeated firmly in her mind. She already knew it. Even a dragon could not force Cersei to be reasonable and put her people first. She did not care about her people, she cared only about the throne.

Daenerys was different,_ right_? Because right now, that was all she wanted. Her people in Essos, the one's properly liberated, she loved them and _they_ loved her. She arrived to them suffering and she found ways to remove slavers from their lives, and they worshipped her for it. Here, the smallfolk were in very common positions but did nothing to aid her._ Why_? Fight for your freedom, to be free of Cersei.

More cries and pleas. And then she heard the bell's first ring. It was then she realized her warsuit matched her son's scales perfectly. She was an extension of him, and he her. She had never felt so in sync with her dragon in the moment. She knew. She would have to choose either peace_ or_ blood.

As she stared at the red door of The Keep, she felt a rage raising in her like bile. It wasn't something she'd never felt or fought before. She often felt rage when she thought of her family massacred and her and her brother being whisked across the sea in fear for their lives. But, it was remembering her family_ built_ the Red Keep. It was hers, and Cersei sat there watching her rampage.

She could go right now. She would be Cersei's judge, jury, and executioner. With her immolation, a new era would begin in Westeros. One of peace and prosperity. The Dragon Queen, Daenerys The Liberator, brought magic back to Westeros! They will sing songs of her mercy and heroics, she saved the whole realm on her dragon!

And then the bell rung. A searing pain split through her head suddenly. She cried out, making her dragon roar. Even though she was in King's Landing, all she could think about was watching the lights on her Dothraki's swords go out. One by one, almost her whole entire army was extinguished. The army she built_ first._ The men who's loyalty was only rivaled by the Unsullied.

The bell rang again.

* * *

_"She's going to die. Unless you change her course of action."_

_"The city will fall by tomorrow." _

_"Escape together, the two of you." _

_"Please, if you hear them ringing, call off the attack." _

_"If you hear the bells, they've surrendered. Call off your men." _

These were all things Tyrion said _before_ anyone could've known what Daenerys would do in King's Landing. Maybe she didn't even know herself, yet. The imp still found himself in Winterfell, sticking close to Jaime and other northerners who considered him a friend. He knew his family had a lot of history with the North, but they didn't seem any closer to forgetting it. He couldn't blame them.

He had noticed one Stark in particular eyeing him. The youngest boy and crippled, Bran Stark. He wasn't sure if he was diseased in the mind or perhaps the smartest of them all. Jon and the rest of his family took his 'visions' as gospel. Tyrion wasn't above giving the boy a chance, he had an eery knack for being right. He couldn't help but wonder what those stares meant.

He had eyed Jaime a lot as well, but anyone with a brain knew why. Jaime would be lucky to escape the North with his head between the remaining Starks and Targaryens residing there. There was a loaded history between them both and the Lannisters.

He finally gave in to curiosity when he found a moment alone with the boy, his stare as distant as Essos.

"You seem as though you have a lot to say?" Tyrion tried, his tone friendly. Bran blinks and the same half smile remains on his face. "Maybe to me?" He turned to face the short man.

"You know that she will do it, don't you?" Tyrion's heart froze in his chest. He didn't know what Bran meant but at the same time, he did. He knew who she was. And he knew what it was _he_ meant.

"Excuse me? I don't follow." Bran's stare hardened ever so slightly.

"Your sister will hold out in The Keep til the very last second. Daenerys will burn all of King's Landing before she or anyone else can escape." Bran told of the apocalypse by dragon but he was as calm as ever. Tyrion had cursed his own family before. Many times before. He had cursed King's Landing and the people who inhabit it just as many times. He told them all to take poison and rot.

But with his father gone (by his hand) and the threat of his family name going extinct on his mind, he began to feel ill. "You cannot be _serious,_ Daenerys-"

"Will not yield to the bells." A chill ran through Tyrion's spine. The bells signaled a lot of things and surrender during conflict. Even the most notorious sacks he knew of abided by the bells. "Daenerys will have a choice: the throne or burning it all to the ground." He turned to the short man, his face impassive. "I've told you what she will choose." Tyrion shook his head vehemently, paranoia creeping into the back of his head.

"She wouldn't do it, I_ can't_ believe it. We came all this wa-"

"I saw visions of her dragon's shadow over King's Landing years ago. And now, I see visions of it burning. Do you think she would burn it down if she found out she wasn't the true heir to the throne?" A freezing breeze blew between them both. The statement silenced Tyrion. He couldn't bring himself to answer with the truth, but he knew how he felt. The benevolent Daenerys who was assured of her future reign and a threatened Daenerys would be two different queens, he knew that much.

"_How_? She is the_ last_ remaining Targaryen." He explained wearily. Something on Bran's face made him feel like he'd have an answer to that.

"She's not." He answered simply. Tyrion only responded with a look. "My aunt Lyanna Stark... Rhaegar Targaryen. He did not kidnap or rape her, they were in love. They were married." The dwarf's brow furrowed in confusion. "In the Tower Of Joy, she gave birth to a Targaryen heir. A boy." He began shaking his head.

"_No_... This cannot true." Tyrion began._ 'This can't happen to her, not when we get to Westeros.'_ He rifled a small hand through his hair. "Who-"

"Jon Snow is not Ned Stark's bastard son." Tyrion actually stumbled a bit when he heard Ned's name. "He never betrayed my mother. He made a promise to his sister, Lyanna. He promised to watch over her son, Aegon, who Robert would murder if he ever found."

"No, Bran-"

"Jon Snow is Aegon Targaryen. The true King Of The Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion could've cried in that moment. Daenerys really was wrapped up in a Greek tragedy at every turn. None of this was fair to her.

"He didn't even like ruling the _Night's Watch_, he doesn't want to be king!" He snapped back. He shook his head, feeling powerless to help. "Didn't we learn with Robert what happens when you let a man who doesn't want to be King rule? Why would you tell me this, anyways? Huh? Leave it up to a dwarf to save the realm..." Bran just watched him silently.

"Because you needed to know." Tyrion didn't like that answer.

"So what do you propose_ I_ do for the people in King's Landing that are about to be scorched?" He stared at him hard, searching for any evidence Bran actually cared about the future genocide he predicted.

He blinked. "I don't propose anything. The choice is yours to make." Tyrion narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, say for fun's sake, I believe you." He cast his eyes on the gates of Winterfell. "If you say Daenerys is faced with a choice... And she makes it, what can I _realistically_ do?"

"You can do nothing if it's what you choose to do." Bran said cryptically, looking at him once more. "You know what inaction does and does not mean." Tyrion knew if Daenerys ever did destroy King's Landing, his brother would be there. And he'd likely be destroyed. "Life is nothing but a series of choices, Tyrion. Choices that led us all here." Bran's gaze goes on the horizon as well. "I don't want anymore, don't worry about me telling you information because I want a certain outcome. I just inform."

'_I wish I thought you had a bias, boy._' Tyrion thought, his head swimming in possibilities. He used to think his brother had mentally deformed the boy when he shoved him from a tower, but now he was certain he was given some sort of power or gift. And it terrified him."Isn't there _something_ you can do?"

Bran makes a face that might mean discontent for him. "Perhaps, but I could also cause far more damage trying warg into events." Tyrion threw his hands out.

"If there's_ anything_ you can do, you have to try! For the people of King's Landing!" Bran stared at Tyrion for a long moment. He wonders what of his history the boy knew. At this rate, it was probably easier to wonder what he didn't know.

"All that I could do is try to warg into the moment after she's already burned the city down." He explained, his voice flat." Tyrion sighed.

"Well, if it as inevitable as you say, that may be what you have to do..." He answered, thinking of his own failed doing's as Daenerys' Hand. He looked seriously into the young boy's eyes. "I will try to influence Daenerys as positively as I can. And this talk, I'll keep it myself." Bran's head tilted slightly. "Just _please_, what you've told me today... Tell me you will try to change it. No matter what."

Bran looked at him for a long moment before nodding. "Yes."

The imp exhaled. "Thank you."

* * *

_xxx_

* * *

_The Night King is dead. Daenerys has just toasted and cheered Jon's sister, little Arya stark. Amongst all the death and chaos it was the little Stark who stopped the White Walker's reign of terror. Daenerys was thankful for that. There was a point where the Army of The Dead could've overcome anything. Daenerys had no problems thanking her, either._

_But she sat in Winterfell during the "celebration". Alone. Her armies were preparing for their next war, Missandei and Grey Worm with them. And it was then, Daenerys realized that without them, she was alone._

_These were Jon's people. Jon's home. Jon's world. They surrounded him even though he seemed to want to be alone. They cheered for him. Sang to him. Not her. There was no love in Westeros. Not for Daenerys Targaryen, The Unburnt. She had lost a dragon to their enemy and she had rode her remaining other two to fight them. And she sat alone with a cup of meade._

_"What kind of madman rides a dragon? A king, I tell ya! A king!" Nobody had even called her queen in this barren land._

It rang again. She saw Viserion slide into the icy ocean, never to be seen again (at least she had wished). Her head was ringing. Ringing harder than the bell. She gasped, looking around her. King's Landing was already on fire to her. She had to take the kingdom by force. With Jon's claim out there, she would never sit long in safety. In the peace she had so desperately wanted. Varys had tried to kill her, of this she was certain. But now, Cersei surrenders as her last act. It wasn't fair. It wasn't altruism on her part, it was as insulting as cutting Missandei's head off.

Another ring.

_Jorah sailed to his knees, blood trickling out of his mouth. He was trying to speak but no words could come out. She grabbed onto him as he fell, his eyes looking through her._

_"Khaleesi..." She heard him sputter and she was already crying._

_"NO," She shook her head, trying to choose a wound to cover. "Jorah hang on,"_

_"I'm hurt," He sighed, his eyes scared. He was moving his lips but no words were coming out. Daenerys leaned in and tried to stop screaming so she could hear him. But his lips went slack._

_"Jorah no," He was with the light of the seven now, dying just as the army dropped for good. "NO."_

She gasped, her head buzzing.

_In one swift motion Rhaegal was shot and descending towards the ocean. She didn't even get a second to mourn. She wouldn't even get to see his body, either. It wasn't fair._

_Why did Cersei get to claim one of her dragons? Wasn't giving one to the Night King enough? Wasn't fighting against one to save the world enough? It wasn't fair._

She shook her head, angry tears leaking out of her eyes. She didn't know why, but nothing had ever made her angrier than the sound of that bell. Cersei executed Missandei just to surrender weeks later.

Grey Worm knew. He knew if she kept going, that he and the Unsullied would as well. Through Fire & Blood would they follow her._ 'Jon won't.'_ She thought. '_He is too honorable, and that enough could be considered treasonous. And getting him will secure my reign...'_

She thought about the last images she had of her closest fiends, her advisors, and her dragons. _'Let it be fear, then.' _The bell continued to ring, the sound itself about to drive the Targaryen into a rage. That's when she heard it. A faint voice. She thought her descent into madness was finally complete until Drogon turned his head too. '_He heard it too..'_ It was faint, calling out to them both.

_'Aerys...'_

She looked around, the bell singing out to her.

From below, Jon watched and wondered why it was taking her so long. Tensions were high on the ground, Cersei's army had surrendered.

'..._Aerys...'_ She heard it again, Drogon looking around. _'Daenerys...'_

_'It's addressing me.'_ She thought, her brow furrowed in confusion._ 'Am I finally losing it?'_ But Drogon heard too, so how could she be crazy?

'_Daenerys... They won't love you...'_ She heard the faded voice say. _'They won't love you...'_ A knife stabbed in her heart and twisted. Even a disembodied voice floated to her to tell her what she already knew. There was no love for her in Westeros. Could it be what her father wanted to tell her all along? She never got to know him, she only knew him through accounts. Accounts of biased people.

_'They won't love you...Burn them all.'_

Now she understood her father after so long. The Westerosi's lower houses, they were tired of the _true_ blood Targaryen reign, tired of living in fear of dragons being born again. It wasn't that her father was_ crazy_, the low bloods of Westeros conspired against him and drove him mad. And had his own Hand murder him. It had to be it. And if she wasn't careful, the same would happen to her.

This was his love for her, seeing his daughter at a crossroads and at a place to finish what he started long ago. To restore their Targaryen dynasty to former glory. It was a beautiful moment, the sun shining through the clouds. She could feel her father with her. Missandei had said Dracarys to her, and now even her father's spirit. This was destiny, and she had only lost fighting it.

Daenerys descended upon King's Landing like a fireball. There would be no surrender. There would be no peace. Not until all traces of Cersei were in flames. Then, a new nation would be formed from the ashes. A _Targaryen_ one. She snarled and her dragon did the same. She gripped him tight. "DRACARYS."

* * *

"Bran?" Sansa said quietly, the raven note in her hand. Bran sat in his wheeled chaired by the fire, staring off into space as he often did. Bran made the red-head a little uncomfortable, but he was the only family she had right now. Jon was in King's Landing with the lizard queen and Arya was wandering King's Landing to kill Cersei (or maybe even Daenerys by now).

Sansa had spent her formative years growing up under the thumbs of Cersei, Littlefinger, and Ramsay Bolton. She knew when to recognize a tyrant when she saw one. What sealed the deal was her unwillingness to budge on the North. Sure, dominion didn't seem like that big a deal but Sansa had seen it all before. While things between her and Jon were good, things would be good for the North. And once they weren't they were at the Dragon Queen's mercy.

She had seen how The Game Of Thrones was played. She had also seen how to survive it. She knew it required deceit at times, she just wished her brother could be a little _less_ like her dad. She loved Ned dearly, but he'd been out of the Game Of Thrones for years. Death had that effect on people.

He turned slowly to face his sister. "Sansa." She crumpled the letter in her hands.

"The war is over. King's Landing has fallen. It was... demolished. _Daenerys won._" Bran doesn't look the least bit surprised. She hasn't seen him look surprised since he was a child.

"Okay. I'm going to go now, Sansa." Her face became apprehensive.

"Will you be alright? Are you _sure _it's a good idea?" She began to worry, edging closer to him. "I don't like when you... _You_ know." She pressed. She knew very little about Bran's abilities and she always worried about him getting stuck in that trance-like state. Frankly, she didn't know what she'd do if he did.

"It will be alright." His eyes rolled back in the back of his head as soon as he'd spoken.

_The warging trip took him only a few weeks into the past now. Daenerys has just torched the defensive scorpion perimeter around King's Landing. Euron's fleets were wiped out. The army was ambushed and panicked under the strain of the Unsullied and Dothraki. Daenerys is atop Drogon and watching proudly as her forces overwhelm the Lannisters and the Golden Company. _

_It's going just as Daenerys always knew it would. Bran is a secret witness to the events, jumping a little himself when he hears the bell ring. 'This is my only chance...' He thought, watching as Daenerys comes to an invisible crossroads._

_'Daenerys!' He called. He sees her respond, but it's faint as it always has been in experience. He yells like he hasn't in years. 'Daenerys!' She looks around, this time the dragon moves. She looks around, she clearly hears him. 'Daenerys... Daenerys, They won't love you if you burn them!' He called. He knew she still cared, deep down about her people's love and she didn't want to destroy the city. 'They won't love you if you burn them all!' He called to her again. _

_He can see the conflict on her face. The pain. And then she looked like her father hugged her for the first time, like she could do anything. And she proceeded to dismantle King's Landing with dragon fire. _

_"The past is already written, the ink is already dry." The old Three Eyed Raven's words rang through his head. It was only now that he began to understand. Bran hadn't stopped her rampage, if anything he'd likely caused it by being there at all._

"How is he?" Brienne asked Sansa, her eyes permanently puffy since Jaime's departure. Sansa huffed.

"He hasn't spoken since I told him the news of King's Landing."

* * *

_'When the bells ring that means they've surrendered.'_

_'Please, when you hear the bells you must call off your men.'_

_'I've seen the Dothraki alone overwhelm Lannister forces, when they ring the bell cease fighting.' _

Tyrion's anxious pleas rang through Jon's head. He stared at the terrified Lannister soldiers, staring down savages and the Unsullied. One by one they dropped their swords with a clatter. Cersei wasn't worth dying for. Jon could almost cry as he watched them give up. He had fought enough for ten lifetimes, especially with a dragon at his back. He was tired of fighting, all he really wanted was to go north. Way north. He had hated these people at one time but it was not anymore. It was even easier to batter their defenses down than he'd thought.

He threw his hands up, honoring his promise to Tyrion. His dark hair clung to his neck in sweat, his top knot doing nothing to keep it out of his way. "Hold fire!" He shouted over the anarchy. "Fall back, they surrender!" He screamed. "They_ surrender_!" He looked into the eyes of his comrades but they were all watching Daenerys, even his Northmen. That didn't matter, he knew she would go for Cersei at most and then keep peace.

But soon, even he began to worry as she hovered in the air._ 'What is there to think of, Dany...'_ He thought, waiting for her accept the surrender. _'Dany, ya have to...'_ He watched in disbelief she dove on Drogon and demolished an entire street with ease._ 'No... What is she doin'...'_ He looked around helplessly, feeling the pressure of the soldiers building behind him.

With a scream, Grey Worm launched his spear through an unarmed soldier. "GREY, NO" Jon shouted but the screams of everyone around drowned him out. Dothraki, Unsullied, and even _his_ men swarmed the soldiers before they could pick up their weapons. "NO," Jon cried in vain but it didn't matter. It turned into a full on sack in moments as Daenerys systematically destroyed King's Landing. Jon watched in horror as men he'd fought beside and got to know began _slaughtering innocents. _

He caught Grey Worm eyeing him a few times during the rampage but he didn't care. This was _wrong_. And Jon Snow would never sack. He threw a scrambling soldier off of him, then another. He stumbled as Daenerys crashed right over top of them, Drogon destroying anything he could reach. He listened helplessly as he heard women and children die around him. Jon heard Ser Davos scream near him. He began to move, still in shock from the scene. King's Landing was being burned from the inside out.

Unarmed soldiers were getting executed, then the women were ravaged. Jon looked around as he took in the sight of charred, unidentifiable remains. Women and children alike. He felt nauseated, and nothing got to him anymore after his resurrection. He felt strangely human right then, and helpless. Like a child as Dany rode overtop of them._ 'Dany's doin' this...'_ He thought, listening to her dragon scream overhead. He thought of her smiling at him in the snow. _'How...' _

_'I will you join you in the fight beyond the wall.' She gripped Jon's hand, so glad for some reason that the short northerner had survived his excursion past the wall. He gazed into her eyes, his expression soft. _

_'I'm sorry, Dany. My queen.' _

'_How...'_ How was this the same person? The same person he had let himself fall for. Now, she was as bad as 1,000 Cersei's and Sansa had all but told him so. Jon watched in shock and disgust as one of his own men sacked a woman and prepared to disrobe and rape her. "STOP IT," He shouted, pulling him off her quickly.

The man bellowed, most angry that Jon had interrupted his fun. He swung for him and then tried to cut him. Out of reflex, Jon swung his sword. He cut through the soldier like butter and he fell to the ground, sputtering blood. Jon stared as he slid to the ground, his hands covered in blood. He turned to the woman, trembling in fear. "Go," He urged distantly. "Run, that way." He motioned and she tore of running.

He stared at his bloodied sword. He had_ killed_ his own man. But that man was a raper, he had to. He mostly couldn't believe he had been alongside people capable of this all along. He didn't care if a flock of dragons flew above him, he would never sack. He looked up to see Lannister's forces trying to direct commoners away from Drogon's fury. It was hopeless. They weren't armed and she was targeting them. If Daenerys wanted them to burn, they would burn.

He thought about all the times she reached out to him.

How he could't fake his feelings once he learned their relation and how she assumed it was because he wanted the throne.

How she _burned_ Varys when Jorah and Missandei were already gone. Daenerys had nobody, she had been very alone for a while now. When he thought of it that way, this seemed very likely to happen. Almost inevitable. Maybe he had done his very best to ignore that.

She had asked Jon to more than serve her, the whole _realm_ was riding on his one decision and he couldn't even lie for the safety of Westeros. She was judging all of them as she judged him: unworthy of anything but fear. What had it all been for? Years of fearing the others beyond the wall and trying to make people understand about the_ real_ war coming. The war came and only Daenerys and the North fought it.

Now, it was just a legend or a myth that nobody paid attention to. The threat they all ignored had been the beautiful, courageous, even sometimes _kind_ dragon queen in Essos. It had brought them to the destruction of King's Landing.

Now she was the real war.

As Jon watched, powerless to stop Daenerys or his own men he had to wonder something. He had always admired Ned for dying for his honor. To his dying day, Ned died showing the realm the kind of man he was. Jon had never really thought about how he died for his honor. Is that all honor got you, _death_? He was beginning to think so. Maybe his dear father wanted to teach him that lesson but he never really understood it.

Maybe Jon should've forsaken his honor a long time ago. As he watched the filthy, disgusting, and immoral chaos around him he certainly thought so.

_"You know nothing, Jon Snow."_ It had been Ygritte's favorite thing to say to him. He wishes he could hear her say it now.

_'What have I done?'_


	3. Phoenix In The Ashes

Daenerys stared at the ashes raining down on King's Landing and she was completely satisfied. The throne room has holes blasted through the ceiling and walls from her rampage. It didn't matter to her, the Iron Throne was in tact. She had a pin melted and made from some Lannister armor given to Grey Worm. It was crudely made but it represented something important. Once the sack was finished it became clear who Daenerys Targaryen could trust. And the list started and ended with Grey Worm.

She made peace with that fact when she burned the capital to the ground.

She sat, draped venomously across the object she'd desired for so long. She was_ finally_ here. They would sing songs of this day. She did not feel like the same Daenerys Targaryen who started her journey ages ago. Her army stood as an impenetrable wall to her kingdom. She had said she would do it and she'd done it. She had taken back the throne with fire & blood. The Targaryens were on top again, may they smile from Valhalla. Drogon wandered behind her, restless from the destruction he'd caused.

Unsullied and Dothraki lined what remained of the Red Keep in front of her, waiting for instruction.

"_Ñuha vali, maghagon nyke ñuha byka ondos. Se Ionos hen sõna sÿrï._" She said suddenly in Valyrian. All the soldiers were immediately at attention. She had asked in an underhanded manner for Tyrion to be delivered to her, and for Jon to be brought as well. One Dothraki and one Unsullied tore off to obey at the same time. She didn't wait long before they were produced.

They both looked as though they were trapped in a waking nightmare. This was not what they imagined when Daenerys crossed the Narrow Sea. They expected collateral damage but they didn't know she would really take King's Landing down, or at least, maybe Jon didn't. They looked exhausted and absolutely devastated. The men had both made themselves scarce around their queen since the sack finished. She hadn't spoken with either of them.

"_Gürogon söna toliot._" She snapped, and a huge savage grabbed Jon and dragged him to the side. He tossed a concerned look to the dwarf who was left standing alone before Daenerys. _'No... She wouldn't. He's her Hand!' _

Tyrion swallowed, his tongue thick. "My queen." He said after an uncomfortable silence.

_"My Hand._" She responded, her voice even. "I was hoping you had something for me." Her lips barely moved as she spoke, her aura was similar to the night she burned Varys.

"Yes, your Grace. _Anything_." He shared a short look at Jon who was just as in the dark Tyrion. She smiled.

"I would like to see the remains of your sister. And your brother as well? He is no longer imprisoned by the Unsullied." Jon shut his eyes, putting two and two together quickly in his head. Tyrion's affection for Cersei was beyond him, but he could tell the brothers were close. He could relate, his family was everything to him. He wasn't sure how to feel about Jaime. He had paralyzed and crippled Bran and didn't think much of it.

Arguably, he imbued Bran with the abilities that made the realm's survival possible, but it was still bleak to think about. Regardless of how he felt, he was sure the dwarf had freed his sibling. And Daenerys was going to kill him for it. _'Tyrion... You fool.'_ He clutched his fists, his nails digging red crescent moons in his palms.

Tyrion's face fell. "My queen, the destruction to King's Landing is-"

"Is _what_?" She cut in, her eyes narrowed. If she were a dragon she would've bared her teeth. She was draped in a black, flowy dress as she sat. Tyrion held his head high and tried to be brave. The Unsullied and Dothraki smirked around him.

"Is going to make it impossible to differentiate remains, much less_ identify _them. Have you _seen_ how a body fairs when Drogon is done with it?" He can't hide the disappointed tinge in his voice and he knows she heard it. Murmurs broke out in the shattered throne room. Daenerys chuckled lightly.

"Ah, right. Your inability to let your _wretched siblings_ die is to be blamed on my dragon, is_ that_ it?" Tyrion was silent.

"_Dany_-" Jon began but she held up a hand. Every solider, including Grey Worm, turned to Jon and stared.

"Silence." There was a quality in Daenerys' voice that got even Drogon's attention. She turned back to Tyrion. "_How_ did your brother get to King's Landing? Don't deny it, he was spotted." The silence was deafening. "_Exactly._ You freed him."

"_Your Grace_-"

_"Silence_." She made a hand gesture and Grey Worm moved forward.

"Dany-" Jon began but this time, it was a look from Daenerys' that silenced him. She was beyond reason. She was truly mad, even if it wasn't in the way of her father.

"Martha." Daenerys clapped and the little girl appeared, one of Varys' little birds. Her face was glum. She was clearly traumatized by the burning of her master and the destruction of the city. Her eyes were hollow now as she looked at the room full of savages. Tyrion watched in shock as she appeared before the queen._ 'Daenerys flipped Varys' spy network...'_ He thought in horror._ 'If she was working with Dany while she was working with Varys then no wonder she burned him immediately.'_ "Tell everyone at this trial what you saw." Jon looked around in disbelief.

"_Trial-_" A large Dothraki warrior, tugged him, sending him a glare.

The little girl looked around, avoiding the dwarf's eyes. "I was hiding and I saw something."

"Very good." Said Daenerys, her eyes on Tyrion. "What else?" _'That child was in King's Landing when she destroyed it...'_ Jon thought, thinking of what the child had been through. He was a grown man and he was forever changed by what he saw man and beast do.

"I saw... I saw queen, _I mean,_ former Queen Cersei... I saw former Queen Cersei escaping by boat. With a knight, a knight who could've been Jaime Lannister, her brother..." The smile spread wider on Daenerys' face. Tyrion was almost so relieved he smiled too. '_They lived...'_

_Tyrion shook his head, trying to convince his only brother not to kill himself. He had been told by Bran it would be a bloodbath, they needed to be as far away from the capital as he could get them. _

_"What were you thinking? Going back to die there with her? Jaime, why?" Jaime shrugged in his restraints. _

_"You've underestimated her, you know?" Cersei was like a roach, love her or hate her she had outlived many of her enemies. Tyrion knew better than anyone. _

_"She's going to die." The short man urged, his eyes boring into Jaime's. There was something so desperate in his voice and it almost scared the twin. He knew as much but he couldn't help but feel he and Cersei could get lucky. They always had before, they were star-crossed and not even Daenerys would keep them apart. "Unless you convince her to change her course of action..."_

_Jaime chuckled. "Difficult to do from here," He commented, unable to resist making a joke about their hopeless situation. He sighed, thinking of how he would either die by the execution or while King's Landing is destroyed. "When have I ever been able to convince Cersei of anything?" _

_"Try." Tyrion urged, revealing a key. "If not for her, if not for herself, then for the innocents of the city." Jaime rolled his eyes. The Lannister's were in the eleventh hour. Who cared about innocents?_

_"To be honest, I never cared for the innocent. Not very much." He admitted, looking hard into his brother's eyes. The end was nigh, there was no point wasting time with lies. Jaime knew who he was and he would show anyone he could before the bitter end. Tyrion smiled a little, his face hopeful. _

_"You care for at least one innocent, I know that." He can tell from the look on his face that Cersei's baby affects him. "She has a reason, now!" Jaime huffed._

_"The child is the reason she'll never give an inch!" He cried, yanking at his restraints. "The worst things she's ever done were for her children, I would know, Tyrion." He cast his eye on the ground. "Her enemies are depleted, two of her three dragons are dead... She's evened the odds." Tyrion thought of Bran's haunting visions. _

_"The city is falling tomorrow." There was a finality to Tyrion's voice that bugged Jaime. _

_"Then I suppose I'll die tomorrow, if not sooner." Tyrion shook his head. _

_"Not if I have anything to do about it." He hurriedly jammed the key into the lock holding Jaime hostage. He watched in utter shock, knowing Tyrion's actions were suicide. "Escape. Why not the both of you? Remember where we met, with the dragon skulls underneath The Keep? Go down there, they'll be a dingie waiting for you. Go on the stairway down, down as far as you can go. Sail out of the bay. If the winds are kind you'll make it to Pentos." _

_Jaime could only laugh. Maybe some could make it through that, but the Lannister's had many enemies. He'd never get to run off and live with Cersei, he knew that'd be asking too much. "Sail right past the Iron Fleet and to a new life?" He shook his head. _

_"You don't get it, do you?" He pulled the chains off of him. "There won't be an Iron Fleet soon." He tossed them down in frustration. "Jaime, do this or you won't see Cersei again!" Tyrion was right. The odds of making it to King's Landing in time were slim to none, but he had to try. Anything that could put him back into Cersei's arms. The end of the world was here and it's all he cared about. _

_"Swear to me!" Tyrion pressed. Jaime looked into his eyes and wondered what his brother knew that he didn't. _

_"Okay." He breathed. _

_Tyrion finally smiled. "When you get to her, convince her to ring the bells. They're the signal for surrender." He emphasized. Jaime watched him carefully. _

_"Your queen will execute you for this..." 'Don't give yourself a death sentence just because I have one.' Tyrion laughed tiredly. _

_"If Daenerys can make it to the throne without wading through a river of blood, she may forgive me." He could tell by the look on his face that he didn't buy it. "Thousands of innocent lives, one not so innocent dwarf." He looked at his hands and then studied his brother's face, likely for the last time. Tyrion knew it was asking too much to hope they all could survive this penultimate time. _

_"You are the only reason I survived my childhood.." Tyrion mused, realizing wherever he went, he would miss Jaime dearly. He shook his head in response. _

_"Yes. Yes, you would have." _

_"You were the only one who didn't treat me like a monster." Tyrion knew exactly what he was doing to let Jaime free, and he was doing it anyways. 'The Lannisters as a clan, we can survive this. I know it.' "You were all I had," He finished, bursting into to tears. The brothers found themselves in an embrace, certain to be their last one. _

_They both knew they wouldn't be seeing each other again. _

_"Goodbye, brother." Jaime sighed, squeezing him tight. _

_'Goodbye, Jaime.' _

_"Well_, Tyrion Lannister?" Daenerys glared at the midget as though she were hungry. "Do you _deny it?_" Tyrion swallowed again, suddenly feeling light-headed. He had pondered his own demise many times, but he never thought it'd be at the hands of the babe Targaryen girl. She used to preach a platform of peace. Now, she was Queen Of The Ashes. How could he have been so blind?

"My queen_, please_ let me explain-"

"Yes, _dear Hand._ I would_ love_ an explanation." He burned under the violent eyes of the Dothraki and the Unsullied.

"I thought that my brother would be the_ last_ hope of reasoning with Cersei, avoiding bloodsh-"

"And did your queen _want_ to avoid bloodshed?" Tyrion was silenced. He tried to remember the beautiful, inspiring, and kind leader he had met all that time ago.

"I-"

"No. I said I would take what is mine through _Fire & Blood._ I said I would be merciful to _future generations,_ _not_ this one. You embarrassed me by having the acting queen _sneak away_ by boat, on your orders, during _my_ siege. A siege of the things_ they'd_ done and now they're crossing the Narrow Sea. Your sister apparently has a_ baby in her belly_, and you think that little bastard won't grow up to be a thorn in my side because the little bastard is related to you? _A Lannister?_"

Jon's breath hitched painfully in his chest. This is_ exactly_ what king Robert Baratheon wanted to do to Daenerys. Ned thought just on principal this was wrong and could never be excused. And now, Daenerys was about to execute Tyrion for that same mercy.

"Your Grace, I did not mean to betra-"

"_Enough._ I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed. _Raped and defiled_... The rape of Daenerys Targaryen ends _now_." She made another hand signal, and it made both Tyrion and Jon realize how distant they'd grown from the Khaleesi. She was always speaking Valyrian, always communicating with darkening looks and fleeting hand signals. "This trial. It's over. Tyrion..." Her eyes go dark. "You do not _get_ a sentence." Jon shouted, pulling against the soldiers who held him back.

"_Dany!"_ He shouted. "Dany, _no_! Don't do this. Don't you do this!" She ignored him, watching smugly as the Unsullied restrained Tyrion.

"It's okay, Jon." Was all Tyrion said, wondering what it was like to be burned alive._ 'Please, don't anger her. When I am gone the realm will need you, Jon Snow.'_

"Daenerys, don't do this." She raised her head, her nostrils flaring. "You have a choice, damn it! Choose the right one, _please_!" She looked at the half Targaryen and saw all the differences between them. He may have been the _true_ heir but she was the_ true_ Targaryen. Sometimes, fire & blood was necessary. Jon didn't have the stomach for it, he was no _Aegon_. Tyrion might as well have killed her dragons, Jorah, and Missandei himself with his crude advice.

"There is no_ please_ in The Game Of Thrones. I have always said I would take what mine with my_ three_ dragon_s_." She said, her lip twitching. "Now I only have _one._ Drogon," He rose from the shadows, his teeth bared.

"Daenerys, don-"

"_Pryjagon zirÿla!"_ She hissed, and suddenly Drogon lashed forward. Jon shouted in terror as the Dothraki ululated with glee. The Unsullied stomped their spears as Drogon tore Tyrion in two. He didn't get to utter a last word, either. Jon couldn't believe he'd seen two men executed without last rites. He watched as his blood sprayed the ash covered throne room. He fought the urge to wretch. The soldiers cheered around him as Daenerys sat there, her expression proud as Drogon chewed on Tyrion's remains.

The dragon hacked up the golden pin that was on Tyrion's chest.

"I am no ordinary woman." She began, her stare proud. "_My_ dreams come true." Her soldiers roared around her as Jon watched, his chest tight as though it were in a vice. _'Your dream, Dany? Was to rule over a graveyard? Of Ashes?'_ He couldn't believe it.

Two bloodied stumps of legs and his shoes remained, the rest of him to be digested by the dragon. Daenerys stood and all the soldiers immediately fell to their knees, their heads bowed. Jon stood, mostly still in shock of Tyrion's demise. He couldn't understand that this was the _same_ Daenerys. Had she always been capable of this? She couldn't have... The one who'd rescued him time and time again, rescued the realm. Who_ loved_ him.

He looked at her, trying to find the things that made him hope again. But she was all he saw staring back. A beautiful face devoid of hope. Too far gone to tell. Soon, the soldiers noticed Jon wasn't bowing.

"Obüljagon, sir." Grey Worm demanded forcefully, his spear pointing at Jon's jugular. Jon didn't move but his dark eyes locked with Grey Worm's. He had considered him a friend but maybe that was a mistake. He didn't want to ever have to cut him down, especially after what he'd been through and lost. But Jon would.

Daenerys waved her hands, descending the steps of the throne. "_Arlï ilagon, nke jiöraton zirÿla_." She said warmly to him, a condescending stare on Jon. Grey Worm made an amused noise and nodded in agreement, making Jon begin to feel alienated. He hadn't realized how much she'd been retreating and speaking Valyrian. Who knows how long she'd been planning, or what had been planned. He stared at her, searching for some part of the woman he'd fallen in love with.

"_Your Grace_," Jon began, the wind suddenly knocked out of him.

"Morghon naejot _betrayers_. Do you know what that means,_ Aegon_?" He winced at the mention of his birth name. He didn't feel anymore like Aegon than he did a Stark. He was Jon Snow, it was the only thing that sounded right.

"You know I don't." He answered, his mouth pulled into a grim line.

"It means death to all betrayers,_ beloved_." An uncomfortable silence passed between them. He had never sensed such a combative energy in Daenerys, now it was all he felt.

"And _how_ have I betrayed you?" He demanded breathlessly, fighting the nerve to mash her face to his. He couldn't lay with her before she destroyed King's Landing and now he was so angry he wanted to fuck her. Jon hated himself for what he was and Daenerys for what she was letting herself be. She stood closer to him, her nose almost grazing his. Why had he never wanted to throw his honor away for a nice normal North girl? No, a wildling and the Mother Of Dragons.

"You mean,_ besides_ spreading a secret I asked you not to tell? Nothing. I guess." Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Dany, you didn't give him any last words! That wasn't a_ trial, it was travesty_." He urged. "Drogon_ bit him in half_. He was your_ Hand_! How is this all better than the way King's Landing was before, huh?" She raised a hand but held back from striking him. "_You_ were supposed to be better!" He screamed in her face, finally facing his feelings on her growing, tyrannical behavior. All the soldiers raised their weapons to Jon but she waved her hand, intrigued by Jon's anger. She hadn't seen much of it. She kind of liked it.

"You really ask that? How am I _better_ than the woman who wiped out most of the Starks for her_ entertainment_?" She said, her eyes growing wide and her voice louder. "I have gotten not_ only myself_ and my _family_ vengeance but _yours_ as well. You should be the first one on your knees, thanking _me_." She lifted her head high and the Dothraki began to scream around her, Unsullied banging their spears.

Grey Worm moved beside Daenerys, a look in his eyes that made Jon fear. Still, he puffed his chest out and finally spoke his mind.

"And what about _your_ father, huh? Those people he burned and executed were _my family,_ too! How is it any different than what the Lannisters did? How is what _you're_ doing different than the_ m_-..." He caught the mad look in her eye and he silenced himself. Trying to reason with her would only lead to his death, and a painful one at that. He saw the way Tyrion looked at him, he had died _for_ him. For him to make everything right. Daenerys nodded, again hand signaling to her soldiers.

"_Jiöragon zirÿla iä ann._" She turned to Jon, her face impassive. "I've told them to bring you a horse. Go, _Jon Snow._ Back to the North where it is you belong." She moved closer to him, forcing Jon to step back. "_Go before I do something I regret._" Her breath rolled hot on his face like flames._ 'Don't tempt me.'_ She thought savagely. She didn't want, to but she would burn him to the marrow of his bones. Anything for the Iron Throne. Why did she have to love_ him_? If she hadn't she would've killed him and there would be no contending claims for the throne. She wasn't simple enough to think it mattered if he didn't want it.

_'These wretched people want it for him,'_ She thought bitterly. _'Destroying King's Landing was the only way to make history right. To put the right family back where they belong.'_

"Dany... You don'_ mean_ that-" He tried to grab her face but she smacked his hand away.

"_AZANTYR,_" All of her soldiers were suddenly at attention. Jon exhaled, staring into Daenerys' stormy, green eyes. A Dothraki was waiting for him at the door with a grey horse.

"Go home, Jon Snow. And stay away from here unless you're ready to prove you love _your_ queen." He stared at her as the Unsullied dragged him to the busted entrance of the Red Keep.

* * *

A girl spent most of her life trying to be No One.

She watched her father die. She watched her brother's body being desecrated and heard how her mother's body was never even buried. These things haunted Arya Stark, no matter how much she tried to forget them. Tried to convince herself that it wasn't her, Arya Stark was dead and_ she_ was No One. She had almost convinced herself when The Hound changed the trajectory of her life in one short conversation.

_"Go home girl," He ordered, his stare soft. He looked down at the little Ned Stark clone and wondered when he'd gone so soft. The answer was a long time ago. She had grown so much over the years, and a lot of what she promised had come true. Hell, the little runt had killed the King Of The Undead. She didn't deserve to die with him there in a crumbling Red Keep. Waiting for fire, the dragon, or the stones to take her out. _

_The girl had done enough. The girl was somebody, especially to him. _

_"You'll be dead too if ya don't get out of here." He warned, searching for the humanity in the girl's eyes. _

_"Cersei destroyed my family!" She countered back, stumbling into the giant man's arms as the dragon rocked the castle. "She's a part of my list, I have to complete it-" _

_"No, ya don't!" The giant man snapped. "What you and Queen Cersei got ain't shit on what me and Gregor got." He gestured to his burns. "Besides," They watched as more of the castle crumbled and fell. "Doesn't matter! She's dead! Who cares if it's the dragon, or the castle, or my mutated fuck brother who gets her!" He leaned in close, his eyes blazing as Drogon screamed in the sky. "Look at me," He grabbed her arm, hard. "Look at me, girl. Do ya wanna be like me!" _

_Finally, the hardened, timeless assassin facade melted into the scared little girl who saw her father be beheaded in King's Landing. She looked into his eyes and around her and as she watched centuries old architecture being destroyed by their 'Queen', she realized this was death. The death of things Arya couldn't wrap her head around. Of history, of prosperity, of any hope of peace. They were crumbling around them. Finally, she admitted to herself that she was scared. That was some someone. She was still Arya Stark, and she wanted to live._

_But she wanted Sandor to live, too. She hated The Hound. The Hound was on her list. Sandor was not. There was a distinction, the Hound had died long ago. "You come with me, you die here." He pressed gently. The castle rocked again. _

_He watched as she returned into the little girl she was supposed to be, not the ruthless specter she'd become out of necessity "B-But-"_

_"No buts." He said, letting her go. "You think you've been waiting for revenge a long time. I've been waiting my whole life." He watched as the realization dawned on her. Life could be very long if you tried. Sandor wasn't trying. _

_She sighed, watching as the man prepared to march to certain death. It was almost poetic, she had left him to die before. He'd even asked if that's what she planned to do again, and the girl said yes with a laugh. Now he was begging her, begging her to choose something else. 'Just because my story has to end this way doesn't mean yours does, little Stark.' _

_She smiled, knowing she would never change his mind. She watched him nod, a real smile on his face. "S-Sandor," He paused, wondering what smart mouthed thing she had to say now. "Thank you." The smile on her face lit the Red Keep up more than the dragon's fire. He smiled, glad that she understood what he'd meant. And the little girl had certainly never called him Sandor before. His work was done, now all that was left was to take his brother to the afterlife._

_Hours later, when Daenerys finally ended her siege, Arya stumbled around aimlessly. She was bloodied, choking on ash that contained the remains of men, women, and children. Her head was ringing and she didn't see any signs of life around her at all. Why had she survived and nobody else? She stopped at the charred remains of a mother and child, her stomach dropping when she spots the white horse toy. _

_'No...' The sounds of suffering tore her away from the morbid sight, following the noise she heard in the eerie silence. _

_"Nnngggh aughh..." She wordlessly followed the sound, staring at the mostly destroyed Red Keep. _

_"No..." She breathed, looking at the exploded remains of the Mountain splattered on the ground. Beside him, with most of his fall broken and flames burnt most of his body, Sandor. Arya stifled a gasp, realizing Sandor Clegane was still alive. Barely. Most of his nerves had to be burned off, at least, she hoped. She prayed he wasn't in a lot of pain. "Sandor..." _

_He had no hair left and one of his eyes looked squashed by his brother. Existence was suffering for him, but he still managed to smile as he tried to see the girl. "Ara..." He gurgled, wondering what he'd done to deserve to see her again. "Ki'mee.. Pleahsh..." She understood what he meant. She had left him there bleeding with Brienne, but now she could never do that. _

_She blinked back the tears in her eyes, knowing he didn't want to see them. She nodded, pulling her Valyrian dagger out. She inhaled sharply and Sandor nodded slightly, giving her the okay. _

_"Goodbye, Sandor Clegane." She said, her face stoic. A man was no longer The Hound. He was Sandor. He made an acknowledging sound and Arya knew it meant goodbye, be well. She plunged the dagger into his neck quickly, leaning forward with a hand on his singed shoulder. She waited and watched silently until she knew he was no longer in pain. Just like Beric. She stood, looking at the ash falling like deadly snow. _

_Queen Of the Ashes..._

_She watched as the sun tried to break through the clouds. It failed, ultimately. A white horse stood untouched, seemingly waiting for her to take it. She thought of the child's toy and Sandor's words... She approached the horse and was shocked when it did not race away from her. She took one last look at the destruction before riding away._

_'I'm going to kill the queen...' _


	4. Hand Of The Queen

Sansa was certain she would never see her brother or cousin again. If Daenerys The Dragon had burned down _her_ own kingdom and city, what would she do with Aegon Targaryen, the truth heir to the throne? It seemed Sansa's mouth might've gotten her and her clan in trouble again. Sansa had soaked up the political knowledge and prowess around her like a sponge, she had to. In a different world, perhaps the Lady Of The North and The Breaker Of Chains would've been friends. Comrades at least. They had a shocking amount in common.

Daenerys was ripped from her mother's arms and carried to a far away land. Sansa was a hostage of King's Landing once, and she still sympathized with the poor smallfolk caught in Cersei and Daenerys' lethal chess game. She had watched her father's death at the hands of her betrothed, knowing her letter written under duress of Cersei had sealed Ned's deal. Had she sealed Jon's?

She had expected the Stormborn's swift dragon of justice on Cersei, but even _she_ had not predicted total destruction. "Arya is out there somewhere..." She spoke, her hair twisted in a simple fashion. She was covered in a black leather and fur dress, the wolf sigil stamped into iron. She looked out over Winterfell from the Stark family home, Bran beside her. He was silent as usual. She pulled a shrug around her and adjusted her brother's blanket. _'I wonder how he doesn't get cold..._' She was sure it had something to do with his ability to travel through memories.

She knew she was probably waiting to hear of Jon's death by raven, but she finally saw his figure approach on a grey horse through the gates. Northmen cheered, but Jon didn't look too happy about that. She frowned when she didn't see Arya with him, but she figured that would've been too much to ask. _'I know she won't leave that awful city until she feels she's accomplished whatever she set there to do.'_ She smiled a little, remembering The Hound was with her. She had a shot of returning on her own time.

"Jon is back." Bran said mysteriously, facing the fire. "Arya is still in King's Landing." The expression in his eyes change and he seems to go to a different place. Sansa frowns and takes off into the snow to meet Jon. She was a snobby child, but Jon was just as much her brother as Bran, or poor Robb & Rickon. He was _certainly_ more Stark than Targaryen. His presence in Winterfell proved that much. She didn't know why but tears sprang to the northern girl's eyes.

She was certain Jon was a goner, and even worse it would've been_ her_ fault. Jon sees his sister's face, even from yards away, and he halts the horse immediately. He slides off and lets out a silent sob, the North and his family finally causing him to have an emotional reaction he couldn't allow himself to have days before. He was home. He had been certain his own _queen_ was going to burn him but somehow, he made it back to Winterfell. Again. He was starting think he didn't have many times left.

"Sansa," He breathed, hugging her tightly as the girl collapsed into his arms, weeping. He looked down in concern, wondering if something happened while he'd been away. He pulled apart from the girl and inspected her with concern. "Are ya_ alright_?" He asked, looking seriously into blue eyes. Sansa was a Tully as much as a Stark. She was a mini version of Catelyn. His relationship with the Stark matriarch was complicated at best, but he would be glad to see even her right now.

Sansa shook her head, snow flurries collecting on her face. "I.. I thought." Her breath formed in front of her in little clouds. "I'm sorry for telling Tyrion." She blurted suddenly, her gaze falling to the frozen ground. Jon sighed and leaned her head on her chin. "Can you forgive me?"

"_Sansa..._"

"Really." She insisted. He could hear how hard it was for her to apologize. "I thought it was the best thing to do-"

"I _know."_ He said gently. He couldn't blame her and maybe she had been right to expose Daenerys' true pathology. He didn't believe she was always that queen, but she was now and Sansa had seen it coming. He needed to rely on the wisdom of his family's strengths. Especially right now. "I'm not angry at you." Sansa batted delicately at blue eyes.

He looked so much like Robb. The Stark family had been an interesting motley crew of genetics. Each kid was another chance for their deep heritage to shine. They were close, and Robb never cared that Jon was a bastard, and he died hating the way their mother treated him. He had been right, and if he could see his brother now he would be beyond proud. She knew even her mother would be if she just knew...

"You know I blame myself for father,_ still._.." She began, her face dark. "If I had been a _little_ bit smarter..." Jon braced her shoulders and frowned.

"Sansa, you were little more than a_ child._ In fear around Cersei, with all her family and all her power. You hadn't a choice." His stare was firm, a fire finally reigniting for him. He could not light it for Daenerys but he could for them. "Don't blame yourself, ya know he wouldn't." Her stare hardened.

"I know I might come off as pushy, stand-offish. Like I_ know_ better. Well, it's because ever since that moment I've striven to be smarter." They locked eyes. "And still, a lot of times I failed. But I got here_, now._" She moved closer, her stare determined. "The lone wolf dies but-"

"The pack survives." He finished breathlessly, dropping his hands. He watched as his men took the horse to a stable and ushered Sansa towards the indoors. "Let's get out of this cold." He suggested, wrapping his arm around her even though the cold felt amazing compared to being in King's Landing. Sansa nodded and followed, noticing her sibling's strange distance between him and the banner men. Jon was their champion.

They seemed to love and adore him the same, but she noticed something. Something had changed. Jon was as loyal as ever to the Starks but something was going on for him with country. He didn't seem entirely devoted to Daenerys, either. Sansa snorted at that. Even Jon couldn't look past the torching of King's Landing, and he wasn't a fan of the capital either.

"Don't ask me why, but I'm almost disappointed you didn't bring the Lannister with you," She tossed him a look. "The short one. Seems a little too reasonable for her Hand." Tyrion had been her sweetest of marriages, and he'd imparted a lot of wisdom on her in that time. They had bonded during the Long Night as well, and Sansa had given up her quest for love. Power and security for the North was her romance now, something she would have an abundance of with Tyrion by her side. She can see from Jon's immediate reaction that something terrible has already happened. "_Jon,_"

"Sansa..." She sighs as he ushered her into the warmer house. He feels relieved to see Bran, but notices a lack of Arya. "_King's Landing,_"

"I know. The ravens arrived quickly. Everyone knows now who their new _queen_ is..." Sansa let's the pout slide of her face and ponders the consequences of Daenerys Targaryen's presence. She crosses over to Jon quickly, not noticing Bran is watching. "She could've_ killed_ you. You know that right?" Jon's face looked pained as the fire's light danced off it. "I know part of that is _my_ fault, but you can't trust her or believe in her anymore! When I heard King's Landing had been destroyed I thought she'd torched you right after to protect her claim." Sansa's shoulder's sagged. "She killed him for setting Jaime Lannister free, _didn't she_?"

Jon looks like he wants to lie but his face said it all. Sansa surprises her self with more tears. Why him? To get away from his family to be executed for having humanity. This is why she was The Lady In The North. Because she knew there had to be a time for humanity. Men like Jon and Tyrion and her father didn't think so, and only one of them was still alive. "I'm _sorry_. I tried to change her decision," He clenched a fist tightly in his leather glove. "She was beyond reason,"

"She was beyond_ reason_ when she wouldn't even have a conversation with me about the North." Her features softened. "You're so honorable, and kind, and sweet Jon..." She shook her head. _"Just like father_. And he's dead. You _can't_ die. Daenerys didn't deserve all the chances you gave her." His brow furrowed, even after her atrocities he was still protective of her. She had lost everything to save The North.

"We wouldn't be_ right here_ without her." He urged. His plan had been right, her dragon's had been a key factor in the Long Night. She had saved them all, and she could just as quickly doom them. It was a problem that to Jon, had no solution in sight. "Sansa, we made a promise. _We made a bond,"_

"No, I'm sorry. _You_ made a bond. We don't have to stand with her in this genocide. We stood by her _defending the realm_, not setting the women and children of King's Landing on fire. What would it take for her to be irredeemable to you?" Sansa shook her head. She didn't want to see Jon die the way their father did, and it was beginning to seem inevitable. "She indiscriminately torched the capital with _you_ and all her men down there. Arya-"

Jon's face went as pale as the snow outside. He grabbed Sansa's arm and she cried out in pain and surprise. "_Jon-"_

"Arya's _gone?_" He looked like he might cry, realizing his little sister might've been in the same carnage he was. Might've been a _charred body_ among remains. He suddenly felt sick, releasing his grip on Sansa when he realized how tight he was holding her. "She-She was_ there_..." When she saw Jon's panic she felt even worse, realizing if Jon barely survived then Arya...

"No, she wouldn't..."

Jon scrubbed his hands over his face. "Not on _purpose._ It was..." She saw the haunted look in his eye. What he'd seen didn't compare to the horrors of Robert's Rebellion that she'd grown up hearing. "I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't remember what she did. It was so baseless, so random, and horrible... And it wasn't even her. Just the dragon..." A faraway look came over his eyes, similar to Bran's. "It was all the men... Not just hers, mine... _Ours,_ Sansa, putting sacks of twenty years ago to shame." Sansa shook her head, tossing a look at their brother.

"By the gods... There's no telling whether Arya was burned to a cinder or not." Jon finally sat, throwing his tired head between his knees.

"Oh god, what have I done."

"Arya is in King's Landing." Bran repeated suddenly. They both turned to him.

"What did you say?" Jon asked, standing and slowly and approaching him. Ser Davos appeared at the door, his face red and flustered.

"We have a raven from your_ royal highness_." Jon rolled his eyes, she had just sent him back to The North. What did she want now?

"Oh really," He looked up and the older man's face was grave. "Davos, wha-"

"She's_ got_ Arya." His face with grim for the young girl who he couldn't help but be fond of. Sansa collapsed on to a table, her hand covering her mouth covering a silent scry. Jon shook his head, grabbing the man's shoulder's.

"What do ya _mean_ she's got Ary-"

"She's made an attempt on her life." He placed the letter in his hands. "It's addressed to_ you_." Jon shook his head in disgust, about to head back on the horse and run right back to King's Landing.

"Jon wait!" Sansa cried.

"Just read it first, dammit!" Frowning, Jon straightened the page, horrified to see what Daenerys had to say now.

"You can get her..." Bran began, not facing any of the company in the house. "If you agree to be her Hand." He turned and faced them. Sansa's head was already shaking, Jon looked as though he didn't even understand. "It does seem she's in the market for one." Jon tried to ignore the image of Tyrion being torn in half from his brain.

He stared into Bran's eyes and he knew what he meant. Jon could agree to be her hand and _Jaime Lannister_ Daenerys. He could never kill the Queen like that, not his queen. "_I can't_." He dropped his eyes to the ground. "I'll agree to be her Hand and have Arya escorted here, where she is to remain." He said firmly.

"Jon, _you can't_." Sansa began. "You can't be her Hand! You see what's happened to the last one."

"You want I should just_ leave_ Arya, huh? Wonder how long she'll last there?" He snapped, feeling bad when he saw the look on her face. "I can't leave her, and I can't sully the Stark name in association by..." He wouldn't even say the words. There was the dilemma that deep down, he loved her. He thought he would be able to wake up every day and look at her and feel the same. He could've never predicted any of this.

"You know there's another option, boy." Davos began. "You've come _back_ from death, you've faced the Army Of The Dead, but you won't face _he_r?" He chased Jon's stare. "Jon, there _is_ no other way."

"I'm not sayin' it doesn't have to happen!" He winces with the words like they pain him. Sansa stared at him in surprise, everyone knew the rabid Targaryen had to be put down but she never thought she'd hear him say it. Her father died being against it._ 'If only he could see now...'_ "I'm sayin' I can't be counted on to do it. _I_..." The words felt silly now, Armageddon was here. "I _love'er_." He sighed in resignation. Sansa stood straight.

"Love_ is_ the death of duty." She said, wondering how Arya was faring with her imprisonment. "If something isn't done Arya will get herself killed there." Her and Jon's eyes met. "Give her what she wants,_ Jon._ Give her love and do your duty." She placed her small hands on his shoulders and he avoided her eyes. He knew she was right. _"Be_ her Hand. Give her love, let her last moments be the _best in her life._ And then serve your real queen. _This realm._"

Jon shut his eyes and remembered staring at her atop Drogon where he used to hunt. How perfect her skin looked against the snow, her dragons brought to life the stories their old Nan used to tell them. How everyday she amazed him more and more. How would he draw a sword against her skin? The first thing Ned had ever told was to never be violent against women, ever.

'_Father will turn in his grave if I do this, even if it's the only way...'_ He thought of the last time he saw him. '_But I am not my father. And I know now that I cannot die for my honor, not with everyone depending on me.'_

"I will go to her in King's Landing." Was all his said. Bran nodded, watching silently as he moved toward the door.

* * *

"Listen to me! Nothing else_ matters._" Jaime grasped his twin's head, blood smearing all over her perfect face. She was trying to listen to him over her own sobs. The world was ending. They were going to die. The Red Keep shook and the dragon's screams were heard echoing through the halls. Debris covered the world map in ominous places, blanketing the beautiful piece of art and history beneath rubble.

"I don't _want_... _I don't want to die-_" She sobbed but he pulled her close, wincing as stone fell all around them. She could never die if she was with him, he was certain of it.

"And you won't." He assured her, somehow keeping his wits about him as he leaked blood all over the Keep._ 'I'm dying...'_ He thought grudgingly. '_I have to save them.'_ "Follow me, through these tunnels." He instructed dragging her past a shattered dragon's skull. "Tyrion released me." He said as the castle rumbled around. She turned to him with wide eyes. "There will be a boat waiting for us. We're going to make it out of this." He smiled at her.

Cersei shook her head vehemently. "You fool! Tyrion will have that dragon lady waiting to roast us!" He shh'd her, dragging her through the tunnels quickly lest they start to collapse._ 'I tried to kill them, and they...'_ She thought of her brothers, one seemingly rushing to his death to be beside her. It might've been one of the first times Cersei ever felt bad for the things she done. And it had taken the Red Keep's destruction.

"He wouldn't. Your brothers are soft, this is where he grew up. Around_ these_ people. He didn't condone this and he wouldn't condone you burning with _my_ child in there..." He spared a look at her slightly protruding stomach and felt reinvigorated. They_ had_ to survive. Her hand hovered over her stomach as Jaime ushered her along. He was bleeding out and yet he was still guiding her. Supporting her. It would've been poetic if they weren't about to die.

The building shook worse, the dragon certainly slamming right into it. They could feel the temperature rise from it's flames. "_Jaime-_" Cersei gasped. He tugged her violently.

"Keep _going,_ we're almost there." He urged, pushing her as fast as his feet would move. _'Come on...'_ He thought. _'We can do this.'_ As the banging became more violent Cersei began to run. "That's right..." He cheered, tugging the woman of his dreams alongside with him. She had caused the destruction of their home and he still would rather die at her side than anywhere else.

Even though their destruction is imminent, he sets aside a second to look at Cersei. God, she was beautiful. Everything he ever wanted. "I love you." He said as they heard the ceiling crash behind them. '_We can make it...' _

"I'm scared." His face became determined. "I don't want to _die, not like this_... Jaime..."

"Don't be. I'm going to get us out of here. I promise. Listen," He wrapped his arms around her. "Nothing else matters."

* * *

_"I see darkness in you. And in that darkness, eyes staring back at me: Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes- Eyes you'll shut forever. We will meet again." _It'd been a long time since Melisandre said those words. She could tell from Ser Davos' demeanor that wherever she was, she was dead.

Arya shivered in the ash filled throne room, her cage being kept right beside the throne. As of now, she was being fed and treated fine. But all the Dragon Queen had to do was slip into a quiet, quick rage. There was no more kind Jon Snow, there was no more gentle imp. There was no more man who loved her or pretty woman at her side. For such a beautiful woman, Daenerys sure was ugly inside. At least she became that way, Arya could see it.

She wore many faces and she stared inside people. The Targaryen and Stark Houses had similar trajectories. Brutalized, deposed, literally still surviving against all odds. The Starks are what happened when you put honor before power. Your people's security and safety before power. You kept revenge limited to the scope of the people who'd harmed you. Little Arya Stark had taken out a whole house with her sinister tricks, but you couldn't say it wasn't an eye for an eye to the Red Wedding.

Catelyn Stark died weeping for her son, her unborn grandchild, the children she would never see again. Arya could sleep at night knowing what she did to house Frey. How could Daenerys sit on the throne and eat grapes, drink wine, and laugh with her soldiers? Let the Unsullied and Dothraki fighters stage battles for her in the throne room, still covered in ash? The ashes of men, women, and children. People who tried so desperately to survive.

Arya thought she stared at true evil when she faced off with the Night King. Resurrecting the dead, desecrating tombs, and converting the unwilling to his cause. He was evil personified and so were his White Walkers. But they had no goal, no motives men with tongues could know. True evil was knowing the results, having a motive to do the something so evil and unfair, and doing it anyways. True evil was Daenerys Targaryen.

The Wolf's true opponent wasn't the Lion, or Winter. It was the Dragon, and in this case, the _Dragon Queen._

She sulked silently in the cage, wondering where Daenerys' savages had taken Needle and Catspaw. She would need them for assassination of their Khaleesi. They both watched as Grey Worm expertly swung his spear, sparring easily with his peers as art and entertainment for the queen. Daenerys watched her soldiers proudly. Arya had noticed they were never out of her sight, and neither was she. She was living up to the paranoia Targaryen's were known for.

She seemed to be draped in a dress that was an awful lot like Cersei's, full of red and black detailing. She sipped her wine perfectly, watching each of her men with a close eye. She noticed Arya's stare locked on Grey Worm. She couldn't tell if she was enamored with his skills or studying his defense in hopes of finding a hole. She couldn't say the Stark didn't intrigue her.

"I see you cannot help but notice Grey Worm." Her green eyes slide from her armies to the northern girl. "He is the finest fighter across the Narrow Sea. And here now, _I would wager._" She can't help by smile, making Arya sick. She had defeated the odds, nobody would take that from her. "_H_e is my Hand and the head of my entire armies for a reason." Her straightened her posture. "You are also a warrior." This caught a slight glance from the girl. "You saved us all during the Long Night. You need to keep honing your skills, if ever there should be another threat."

A thousand words pass through Arya's mind but she doesn't say any. "_Swear_ your fealty to me. Promise your little attempt will never happen again..." She stood, sending a chill down the young girl's spine. "And I will let you out. And thus," She gestured to the armies behind her. "Your training with Grey Worm could begin." Arya watched as he sliced through the air with precision. Then she thought about her other teachers. Syrio, The Hound, Jaquen...

"No." She shook her head. "I'm not interested in learning from someone _like that_." Somehow, Daenerys managed to smile and she returned to the throne with a chuckle.

"Very well, _Arya Stark_." She sat with her hands in her lap but her rage was palpable. Only time would tell if Daenerys could keep her worst impulses at bay before Jon arrived with a formal answer to her proposal. She trusted nobody more than Grey Worm but he could not be her Hand. That would pull him from her armies, and she had a lot of plans for her armies. "I'm very excited for your brother to get here, or should I say _cousin_?" She continued, a smug look on her face. Arya scoffed.

"You mean _your nephew_? We don't do_ that_ in the North..." Daenerys eyes darkened.

"_Ziry tests ñuha sÿz._" She barked in Valyrian, making Arya's heart beat faster. If she called an execution order in that language she would be none the wiser. Several soldiers seemed to nod to what she said but none approached her cage. "He will be my Hand." She continued, largely ignoring Arya's words. "A Targaryen Queen and a Targaryen Hand. I can think of no better arrangement."

Arya shifted uncomfortably. "Is that what you did? Promised him in a raven you wouldn't kill me if he left the North to be _your_ Hand?" Daenerys' smile answered for her. "Is it_ really_ love if you have to hold his real bond, _his family_, in front of him to get it?" The Targaryen's face was impassive but she's clutching her hands.

"If I burn the kingdom to sit on the throne am I still queen? Whether you like it or not, _the answer is yes_." Arya spat, garnering a few comments from the soldiers.

"Jaelan naejot ossënagon zirÿla daor se zaldrïzes." Grey Worm sneered, asking to let him destroy the Stark girl instead of Drogon. Daenerys chuckled and Arya didn't like the way it sounded.

"_Daor, daor. Issa se mërï ñuhoso ziry surrender_." She hissed back, her eyes locked on Arya. "He _will_ be my Hand, and it will be for that reason that you live." Her nostrils flared, tired of the girl's insolence. "Nothing more."

"You_ really_ are you father's daughter." She expected an ugly sneer from the dragon-born, but all she got was a triumphant smile, the look of someone who's finally embraced who they are.

"Yes. My father ruled _these_ people, saved _these_ people, and somehow they still were not grateful. It sounds familiar." It was clear to see on Daenerys' face. Arya could see the loss of her dragons in her eyes, on her face, in the way that she walked. She could see the loss of her advisors in her increasing wine drinking over night. From sober to Cersei Lannister.

Arya was familiar with loss. She knew it all too well. Daenerys felt herself losing Jon, only on a whim for him to be her Hand was why she still lived. _'I have to stop her...'_ She thought bitterly._ 'She's mad! And Jon..._' She stared in the queen's eyes. _'She knows he can't kill her, that's why I have to.'_

"But perhaps every little girl becomes her father... You do seem determined to end up like Ned Stark. _Without a head._ You should be grateful we can both count on Jon Snow to show up here as early as he can. And not a moment too soon." She clapped and signaled at her armies, a line of Dothraki and a Line of Unsullied guarding Arya's cell. "_Morghūljagon gō she's hen hen aōha sight._" She demanded. _'Die before she's out of your sight.'_

"Valar Morghūlis." The armies responded, making Arya gag.

"He'll never let you get away with this! Jon! The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, Daenerys." She smiled at her, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Yes, I know the words of your house." She walked back over to the cage, her soldiers watching her. "Ours is _Fire & Blood_. My dreams come true, I make man's dreams come true. I have already gotten the throne. I have already gotten your brother. And I have _already_ gotten away with it." She smiled, making Arya wish it was still Cersei on her list.

With that she turned and Arya day-dreamt of murdering her.


	5. Necessary Betrayal

Arya watched as Grey Worm hand delivered a raven to Daenerys. She began pulling and gnashing against the bars. She could see on the seal it was from Winterfell. _'Sansa...'_ She reached her tiny arms through the bars. "What's it say! _Let me see!_" Daenerys just smiled, taking painfully long to unravel and drag her eyes over it. She can see from her eyes that something has surprised or pissed her off.

"It's from your_ dear_ sister..." She began, looking up at the northern girl. "_The Lady Of Winterfell_." The soldiers broke into discontented grumblings. There was no Lady Of The North, only their Khaleesi. All of the air whooshed out of Arya's lungs. "How very interesting." She looks down at the letter again, nodding her head as she read along. "She says Jon is on his way to be _my_ Hand."

"_Lies_," Arya spat. "Coming to get me, perhaps, but never to serve _you_!" Daenerys was grinning now, looking over the parchment and into Arya's eyes.

"She also says that by agreeing to do so, Jon has severed his ties with the North_ and_ the Starks. The North does not swear fealty and Jon is now a Targaryen. _Aegon_ Targaryen." Venom dripped into her smile. "How does it feel?" The northerner turned away from Daenerys.

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it. You Starks, you say it yourselves. There is _no bond above family_." Her glare could've broken glass. "Well, he is_ my_ family, too." Her stare pierced Arya but she did not turn away. "All that family and Jon still chose_ me._"

"You are delusional if you think Jon would ever consider himself a part of your_ mad,_ savage fami-" Arya cried out in shock when Grey Worm jabbed her face with the blunt end of his spear. For a second, Dany's face was is as it was when she heard the bells. Targaryen's were master Conquerors. There were some who ruled fantastically and others who needed conquest. As Varys had said, he wasn't sure where her coin landed yet. She wasn't sure either. She found the sudden sight of blood tantalizing.

It reminded her of how much more was owed to her. No, King's Landing could _certainly_ not be enough.

"_Sol nektogon se riña arlī, koastan tepagon isse naejot änogar_." She said dismissively. "I may not be able to hold back. Let her talk. As long as Aegon Targaryen holds true to his word, I don't care." The Unsullied soldier glared at the caged girl, his face impassive. Missandei had been his last hope at achieving peace. He would choose violence every time.

"His name," Arya spat blood. "Is _Jon Snow."_

"When we release you I wouldn't go to Winterfell, little girl." All of the color drained from the trained assassin's face. "We are drafting up ideas now of how to handle the North situation." Arya tugged against the bars frantically. _'Sansa! Bran! No, I have to get there, I have to._' She shook her head. _'This is a trap, right? Jon would never denounce the Starks, he would never claim her still.'_

Arya hadn't seen Jon since before they both separately left for King's Landing. They were close, perhaps closest of all, but he could've fallen under the Dragon Queen's spell. It was unlikely, but not impossible. If Arya had learned anything, she had learned that. His honor was likely to get him killed, maybe he still couldn't bare to betray her because she lost a dragon or two. She loved his soft, empathetic nature but the North didn't need that now. "Jon won't let you fly upon that beast and destroy Winterfell! It's_ his_ home!"

Drogon screeched, wild eyes honing in on the outsider there. The caged girl was unlike anyone currently around the dragon. She was different and that made him want to eat her. "Careful, girl." Daenerys smiled menacingly. "He does what he wants, sometimes."

"He's just like you. A bully. Like Cersei. The Mountain. You're_ all_ the same..." She looked up at the beast in genuine wonder. She had always been the least scared of the dragons in the North. "Hiding behind someone_ else_ doing all the work." She locked eyes with the green eyed queen.

"You don't think I'm a dragon?" Daenerys questioned, moving closer to the cage. "You think I am _only_ my dragon?" Arya looked her up and down, growing tired of the foreign queen's company.

"I said as much. You're quick to bringing up your dragon instead of finding a new way around things." Daenerys crossed her arms. If Missandei and Jorah were still there she'd never heard so many complaints before. It didn't matter, Daenerys had the throne now. What Arya said was only confetti. Ashes sprinkling over the keep.

"Then you will never know just how close you _came_ to death by dragon." Arya exhaled.

"How did it_ feel_, Dany? Burning women and children alive?"

_"Khaleesi._" She tore her eyes from the teenager and her heart swelled when she saw him. Jon's growing, dark hair was out of the bun and draped in a tiny, loose braid. _'Just like Viserys always described him to me, like his father...'_ Daenerys thought in awe. She loved her armies but they weren't a people. The people of King's Landing had been wiped out, there were no subjects serving her. Yet. She could hardly call Arya a willing participant. She was lonely, in fear of going mad in the empty capital.

But here, a fellow Targaryen arrived to solve that problem. He wasn't draped in his familiar northern armor. The armor was silver with a red lapelle draped over his shoulder. In fact, there was no fur on his equipment at all. If Arya had to guess she would've posited that it was_ Targaryen_ themed armor. She shook her head in disbelief, Jon would never abandon his Stark heritage, not even to save _her._

_"Jon-"_

_"Aegon?"_ Daenerys' voice trembled. She sounded like a little girl. Not the conqueror who eviscerated King's Landing. Gutted it like it was nothing. Jon didn't even spare a glance at his sister. He picked up his gait and ran to Daenerys.

"My _queen,_" Grey Worm moved in front of her quickly, his staff held defensively. A growl rumbled in his throat, he did not buy Jon's act. But, Daenerys wanted what she wanted and it had been Jon. Arya watched, tears welling in her eyes for the first time since she had to kill Sandor. But these were _angry_ tears, tears of rage.

"Jon, _why_?" He stared into her eyes, his face impassive.

_"Because_, Arya. Look what it's gotten _me_, trying to be one thing. When," He turned towards Daenerys and his face was suddenly optimistic._ 'Has he... Has he gotten over our relation? Understood that it was natural and normal to breed this way? That kings, and champions, and dragon breeders were born this way?_' She searched dark pools for answers, wanting to lick the scar over his eye._ 'The reign of Daenerys and Aegon...' "_Maybe, this whole time... I was another." Arya shook her head violently.

"You're _nothing_ like her-"

"You wouldn't know, girl. You_ belong_ in your family. You're the spittin' image of Ned Stark, Sansa, Cat's..." His words silenced her. "Now, my Khaleesi will let you go, run home and tell tales of her kindness. Maybe it will make your_ hard-headed_ sister reconsider certain death." She stared in horror as he unlocked her cage, his stare hard. "Go on, _run along_." She stared at him, wondering where the man she grew up her whole life knowing was.

"This isn't right," She insisted. "This isn't _you!"_ Jon rolled his eyes in exasperation, feeling all of the eyes in the room on him.

"Damn it girl, go." He shoved her and she stumbled backward in complete shock. Ned Stark might as well have just raised his hand to her for no reason.

"J_on-_"

"Leave!" He shouted in her at her, his face in a savage snarl. "And I ain't _Jon."_ She had never seen him look so furious before. Not once in her life. _'What's happened to him... Is this some black magic?'_ Her gaze shifts to Daenerys and she sees an abandoned dagger dropped by some unwitting soldier, there were hundreds there. She looked back and Jon and back at Daenerys.

With a scream, Arya jumped around Jon and grabbed the knife. The room erupted into chaos, but Daenerys stood still before the Iron Throne, her lips twitching. Jon grabbed his sibling by the hair quickly and slapped her across the face, causing her to cry out. The room went silent. "_Now, I've had it_!" Jon cried, ripping the dagger from her hands and slicing her palm with it. Daenerys jumped, not thinking Jon was capable of something like that. It really turned her on. Her hand clutched the breast of her dress as she watched how far he would take it.

Arya looked up fearfully with a stare of disappointment mixed with hatred. That's when she saw it. She _felt_ it. She didn't know how but she could sense Bran looking into the moment. _'He has to...'_ She strained and she barely heard it. She stared into Jon's eyes and the moment lasted a lifetime. She saw the flicker of pain and regret behind his eyes. This is what he had to do to keep Daenerys from killing her and to complete his mission. He had been so convincing he was almost added to Arya's list.

She continued wrenching and crying, biting him and pummeling him with tiny fists. "_Go on_!" Jon cried, shoving her forward. She turned and froze.

"_Azantyr dīnagon, Aegon!"_ She ordered. Every soldier, even Grey Worm held up their weapons around him. He glared darkly at her. "Now we think it is time you go. Tell the North of our kindness." Arya watched her lip twitch again, and hoped that Jon would fare alright around her unpredictable nature. She spat where Jon stood and tore off through a busted wall of the keep.

"Kess nyke follow zirÿla dãria, Arya?" Grey Worm asked nonchalantly. She studied Jon's body language closely but he didn't turn or acknowledge the statement.

_"Daor, kess sagon sÿz_." She answered smugly, eyeing Jon snow herself. Her arms were crossed as she circled him. The soldiers watched the queen's reaction intensely. He certainly did seem changed. She wasn't sure what had done it for him in the barren tundra. _'Perhaps that over-baring sister of his. Gods know I could barely bare to be there with her.'_ Her blood began to boil again at the memory that Missandei reported Sansa bad mouthing her during the Long Night.

_'Attitudes like that are exactly the reason King's Landing is in ruins,'_ She thought bitterly._ 'And she sits on a higher horse than me. But her people need time to rest.'_ Jon had finally seen the light and it was by her side. Of course, she still had to be sure. She dragged slender fingers through his hair, noticing the lack of a bun and the one tender braid down the side. She rubbed her fingers over the braid, her heat pulsing.

She touched the red fabric draped over his shoulder and wondered what his father had looked like. She laid her head on his chest, still looking up at his face. His eyes seemed closed out of contentment this time, not shame or guilt. She dragged a hand down her chest and didn't stop until she hovered over his member. She squeezed and monitored his face as she did so. He even moaned a little, in front of her and all of her army.

This was all she'd ever wanted, for Jon Snow to want her as bad as she had wanted him. Maybe even more. From the first time they laid together to now. And now, he finally did. She said nothing, pushing his head down between her legs. He inhaled her like a fresh meal being prepared. Maintaining eye contact, she unlaced her dress. The army watched as Jon disappeared between her legs, making her howl wildly with pleasure. The Unsullied watched stoically while the Dothraki screamed and roared with her.

She moaned again and pushed his head. Her hands smelled like lemons. "_I believe you," _She breathed. There was a domineering look of Jon's face as he pushed past her hand and continued pleasuring her. Daenerys' knees went weak when she felt how_ bad_ he wanted her. He had forsaken his family, his sister, his name, his _honor_ just for her. And all he'd ever told her he had was honor. That's what he thought Daenerys' Targaryen was worth. Finally, his love could match up with Ser Jorah's and she could move on.

She pushed him more forcefully, her nails digging into his skin. She smiled, though, her defenses finally dropped. "_Aegon?_ Can I call you that?" Her voice was small again, like that insecure little girl. Not his queen. He smiled and rose to meet her, kissing her before he even wiped off his mouth. She held up her hand and made a signal before they'd even broke apart.

_"Henujagon īlv._" She demanded. "Leave us." Most of the separate soldiers began to file out. They got the jist of what was about to happen, some stallion making. The Unsullied had no frame of reference for interest and the Dothraki knew they didn't get to witness such things. Grey Worm refused to move, last of her original Khalisar.

"No." He shook his head, looking at Jon with disgust. _"I won'_t." He demanded, his voice firm.

_"Turgon Nudha, jikagon._" She pressed, Jon's hands roving her body. "_Leave us."_

"_Bisa sagon īa quba morghon_." He pressed. He knew she knew all the ways it was suspicious and could be a trap._ 'She's being blind.' _He thought, eyeing the northerner wearily. The northerners were stubborn to a fault, his little Targaryen blood didn't change that.

"_Nudha, lo nyke morghüljagon pār ivestragī, biare._" She said with a sad smile._ 'If I die then let me, I'm happy!'_ She had been putting on a brave front but he knew his queen was unhappy. She was lonely. If she could go back again she wouldn't do this, she would keep Jorah and Missandei across the sea. She would be happy with the man who loved her most and all her people. He would have a life with the woman of Naath. It would be better than this. This was either a shot at happiness or death, and he had a feeling which. But how could he help if she wouldn't let him?

"Won't lose you too." Grey Worm answered seriously, his stare locked with Jon's. Daenerys nodded.

"Nke jorrãelagon zirÿla. Se lo ziry morgül nyke ossēnagon zirÿla arlī." Grey worm nodded grudgingly._ 'I love him. If he kills me, kill him anyways.' _He knew he would carry out that mission if anything happened to his Khaleesi. He exhaled loudly before forcing himself to leave his queen alone with a weak Targaryen. After a few moments, the throne room was empty besides them.

Daenerys stared at him. It was all she ever wanted, and here he was. _"Khaleesi.._." It'd been so long since she'd heard someone say it like that. She laid her head on his shoulder and put one hand on his head. She listened to his heartbeat.

"Aegon..." He broke apart from her.

"I'm, I'm sorry. _This is all_..." He dropped from her embrace, making her frown. "This is all my fault." She shook her head.

"What do you mean? Me getting the Iron Throne?" He laughed sadly.

"Everything I asked from you," His face darkened. "Everything you _lost."_ It felt like a vice gripped her heart. She wanted to hear this for so long but now it made her sad. She had done a lot of things for genuine kindness. She had done a lot of things to get things in return. But everything she did with Jon Snow involved, she'd done it for_ him._ Because she wanted him and nobody else.

"I wanted to do them." She shuddered, dangerously to his face. "It was _them_ who needed to thank me. Who owe me_ apologies_..." The rage faded as quickly as it came. "Never you." Jon sighed. _'Yes, I do. I do most of all...'_ "You never really got anything out of embracing your Stark heritage, did you?" She looked at the sun shining through the holes in The Keep. "I'm sorry. May you enjoy only prosperity being _Aegon Targaryen."_

A fire lit in his eyes and he leaned in and kissed her again, this time more hungrily. He tasted like cinnamon. He began to slowly disrobe her, her dragon somewhere watching. It had been a lifetime since the last time they had sex, but she couldn't help but feel bad that she was most likely barren. She wanted nothing more than a strong, Targaryen baby and the way Jon kissed her made her feel he just might give her one. "Wait," She began.

He frowned down at her. "What is it?"

"I can't be pregnant, you know that." Her gaze hardened and she wished she could burn the witch again. "I don't want you to blame yourself." He shook his head, his stare determined.

"I _know_ that after we got done," He picked her up and set her on the throne gently. Daenerys moaned in anticipation, all the things she wanted colliding at once. _'This is what it was all for...'_ "That stallion will be born nine months after." He descended upon her, gentle but feverish. He lit a trail of fires everywhere he touched her body, mashing his lips against her warm throat. This was even better than the first time they had sex. It made her forget the abuse, forget her brother, forget the pain in the earlier years of her life.

There was only Aegon Targaryen inside of her now, and it was all she needed. She bit his neck hungrily, crying out in pleasure when he yanked on her braids. He rutted against her, every gasp that escaped her lips motivating him to thrust harder until she almost couldn't take it. It was perfect. It was everything she'd wanted for so long. _'Tonight is the night...'_ She thought. _'In the newly taken Red Keep, our son, the new stallion will be born!'_ She thought, throwing her head back.

"_Give me a dragon, Dany_." He rasped into her ear desperately. She moaned, her nails dragging across his back like dragon claws. He moaned in pleasure, watching beads of his sweat dropping on her like rain. She thought of the first time she saw him. She was certain she'd never be in love. Jorah had given her the purest version of love in her life and she couldn't love him back.

Jon didn't love her, he loved the North and his family. He didn't even know who she was. But she wanted him. She wanted him more than anything, and she knew she would burn everything down if she didn't get it. She looked up at him, more raw and less honor bound than she'd ever seen him. She'd loved this pushed to the limits Aegon. Jon was wrong for her but he was right.

_'I wonder what he thinks now...'_

* * *

_"And you're sure somethin' like this could work..." Jon pressed skeptically. Sansa did not know the lengths of Daenerys paranoia. He wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to kill him for nothing. It wouldn't be nothing, He was Aegon Targaryen. Sansa nodded, fussing over her older sibling's hair. _

_"Cersei babbled to me endlessly about Rhaegar," She gave him a pointed look. "Your dad. Targaryen men had a whole way of carrying themselves..." She tied a band around a braid in Jon's hair. "If you appear in the throne room in furs and wolf sigils, what's she to think?" She messed his hair a little and picked a red cloth. "If you appear looking like you've embraced your Targaryen side when she gets the raven, she'll start to believe it." She explained. _

_It was deceptive and nasty. Jon felt like a Lannister. Not a Stark, and not a bastard. And he knew her heart would be broken. She may never forgive him. "Don't underestimate Arya, either." Sansa said, her voice gentler. "She'll understand, but make sure Daenerys doesn't." Jon heaved a heavy sigh. "It's not breaking your honor if it's for the realm." She stressed. He shook his head. _

_"I wish I could believe that." He tossed an awkward look at Bran. The amount of power his brother had was incredible. More than them all. It almost disturbed him how little connection he felt to Bran but how much he controlled things. _

_"Do we need to go over anything?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion as usual. Jon shook his head. This unfortunately wouldn't require much acting on his part, just giving in to his basest instinct. That wasn't something the northerner did often, if at all. _

_"No, I understand the meaning of the world betrayal." Davos placed a hand on his shoulder. _

_"Now Jon, think of those who fell in the Long Night. Now think of the populace, the children and women, your men in the crossfire killed by Daenerys. You family killed by her father. It is the necessary betrayal if there ever was one. Do it for them, make it worth something that thousands died to keep the realm safe." His stare hardened. "And not for Daenerys to burn to a crisp!" _

_Jon sniffed. Davos was right, and with her decreasing mental it was inevitable. He sighed. "I know." _

_"Okay, good." _

_"I don't care what you think," Sansa fixed the braid. "Father would be proud of you." Jon grimaced. _

_'No he wouldn't. He let the realm burn for less...' Now, he had to wonder if he was lucky to have missed the train wreck. Jon leaned toward yes._

He stared down at her, his eyes blank. Then, he looked up at the throne, all the swords glinting in the light. "_Say you love me... Aegon_," She begged, about to climax. Jon's eyes roved the throne, searching for rubies.

_'When you see the ruby, Dark Sister... You will know. It is time.'_

_'Her own houses sword,'_ He thought bitterly. He owed it to her to give her the most glorious, befitting death of the last princess of House Targaryen. _'Send her to her dragons, to Jorah and Missandei. Where she belongs.'_ "Daenerys Storm-born," He moaned, finding the sword Bran had described. Dark Sister. A fitting end. "_I love you._" She screamed and he thrusted her, his nails digging into her soft flesh as he finished inside of her.

The after-sex glow had only begun when he moved quickly. He reached up, naked, and grabbed Dark Sister before Daenerys could even open her eyes. "_I love you_!" He shouted, plunging the sword deep within her chest. "My queen." And time froze. Daenerys gasped, her eyes wide with shock. _'What..._' The knife through her heart was nothing compared to the feeling that she knew this all along. That she had never been anything other than Nissa Nissa.

Jon screamed in her face as her naked body began to grow limp. Twice he had held his love as she died. How many times did a man have to have his heart ripped out and shredded? Jon had lost count long ago. "_Knew it.._" She sputtered. "You're _no_ Aegon...Not fire, you're Snow." Even in death he could see the rage and incredible will in her eyes. It was why he loved her. She defied fate. There was nobody stronger, braver, and more determined than Daenerys of House Targaryen. And certainly not him. "_Why_..." She hissed. "Tell me, why!"

His tears mixed with the specks of her blood on his face. He gasped, thinking her blood felt like fire as it leaked all over him. "_Dany_," He breathed. "Dany... I _had_ to..." He ran a trembling hand through her still perfect hair. He sobbed when he felt how soft it was. Even if she hated him, even if she was dying, he just wanted to kiss her. "I had to for the realm. Not because I wanted to. I was ready to watch it burn down just to keep my honor, my honor to _you._.."

She smiled at him, wishing she would see him smile more before he died. She reached up and touched his face, leaving a trail of blood. Targaryens didn't die easy. She would make him wait for this. "You know _nothing_." She said with a smile, causing him to look upward.

"But I love you, Dany. _More_ than them._ More_ than the realm. And everything that happened before... I meant it." She blinked.

"I know. I felt it. I finally felt it, what it feels like... _To be loved as much as you love someone else._" He leaned his head on hers, his eyes squeezed shut.

"_Nobody_ was as sacrificial, as strong, as beautiful, and as brave as Daenerys Targaryen. The Storm-Born. The Unburnt. The Breaker Of Chains. Khaleesi, and _my_ queen." He stroked her head. "All I've ever wanted. Now go." He shuddered. And for the first time in her sad life, Daenerys felt love. She didn't have to force herself. She didn't have to ponder it. Question it. Think about it. Filter it. This_ was_ it. It was facing the Long Night without a care in the world because you _know_ you were loved. Loved by the people of Essos. Loved by the Prince Who Was Promised.

And that was all the Targaryen Princess ever wanted.

She died with a smile on her face. Once Drogon let out a screech Jon knew the soldiers would arrive, but not before the dragon burned him first. He wasn't willing to rely on his heritage not to burn. Daenerys was something special, he'd always thought that. But he was just unfortunate. He stared at the demon as it rushed for him. It's eyes were black in a rage. He wasn't sure how it was going to make him meet his end, but it would not be pretty.

_'And here I stand, naked, a Queenslayer...'_ All that time looking down at Jaime Lannister had brought him here. In the same place with a dragon._ 'This how I die, saving the realm for nothing.'_ He let out a frustrated roar and wrenched the sword from Daenerys' chest. It was a dainty sword, very feminine and one he could've seen the Khaleesi wield. But what he _didn't_ know was Daenerys giant soul had been imbued in the blade, tempered with her precious blood.

He screamed as the sword seemed to transform before him, in size and weight. It was covered in flames, everywhere but the handle. The dragon, blind in fury, lunged at him. Jon screamed savagely and swung the fabled sword Lightbringer.

_"With a heavy heart, for he knew beforehand what he must do to finish the blade, he worked 100 days and 100 nights until it was finished. This time, he called for his wife Nissa Nissa and asked her to bear her breast. He drove his sword into her living heart, her soul combining with the steel of the sword, creating Lightbringer, the Red Sword Of Heroes._

The legendary sword cut right the dragon like it was nothing. The massive, dragon's remains crashed to the ground in front him as he stood. Arya appeared at the back of The Keep. "_Hurry_," She urged. "And don't watch when I do my magic..." The thought of Arya doing her face magic on Daenerys made his stomach flip.

They needed to be quick. Drogon would be an excuse to send the armies away, and he and Lightbringer needed to go.

But someone had known to check. Grey Worm stood in the entrance of The Keep and took the scene before him in.

There she laid, still looking like an angel. Dead and naked before she could see her last son beheaded. He began screaming, running toward Jon with his spear and without shield.

"Grey," He tried as he rushed to him. "_You_ don't have to die, too." But he wanted to die, that's what Jon didn't understand.

_"Valar Morghulis_." He snarled, launching his spear. Jon just moved out of the way in time, swinging the flaming sword around him. Grey Worm yelled, ripping out his own sword. He swung at Jon but the weapon cut into his shoulder. Grey Worm howled in anguish, gritting his teeth as blood filled his mouth. He wanted to die, and he wanted to take the bastard Aegon with him. But as he felt the flaming sword cut through his sternum he knew it wouldn't happen.

He gurgled, dead before he hit the ground beneath Jon.

He died a fitting death avenging his queen.

"Okay." Arya called. He tossed the flaming sword on the ground. "Take her and go." She urged. He stifled a sob and obliged, disappearing quickly with her body. He turned his head away, disappearing as the Dothraki and Unsullied began to appear.

"My top general was assassinated by a traitor!" He shivered as he heard Daenerys voice even though she lay growing cold in his arms. He winced as the armies were in an uproar. "We must head back across the sea to regroup._ Arlī naejot essos naejot rest se öregon_!" She cried, throwing her fists in the air. Her soldiers followed, thrusting their weapons upward. They believed Arya. They would be headed across the sea within the week.

That was really all their was of Daenerys' reign.

* * *

Only Davos attended Daenerys' funeral pyre. It was a secret, hidden. Nobody could know. She deserved better. Everyone should know her name, not for destroying King's Landing, but for saving the world. She didn't burn but it was a marvelous sight. Jon sighed, finding a patch of exposed water to dip her flaming body into. She was tied to rocks, they watched as she disappeared beneath the surface. Forever. Jon hung his head, his lip quivering. He had killed her with his bare hands, he couldn't cry for her. He didn't feel he deserved to.

They watched in silence as she disappeared.

"A damn shame." Davos said finally, thinking about how many people this Great War had claimed. "You did the right thing,_ Jon_." He placed his hand on Jon's shoulder, making the man sigh.

"Yeah." He looked into the older man's eyes. "Tell that to_ her_." He moved around him and walked of toward his Winterfell house. He ran into the older man's arm, halting him.

"A lot of men don't know what choice to make when they are faced with the realm and the love of a woman." Jon sighed.

"I know what I _wanted_ to do." He snapped. "Just like the rest of my life, I didn't to it." The poor kid had grown up a bastard, was sent to the wall for his parentage, and his watch ended with being _killed_ by the army and resurrected.

"Young fool. You don't know what I mean. You really _are_ the Prince Who Was Promised..." Jon's face screwed up in a rage. How could anyone talk to him about the throne?

"I will not sit on that _hunk of metal_-"

"I didn't say _the king_." Davos answered, his expression softening. "You, are_ Azor Ahai._ And she was _Nissa Nissa_. The only way to defend the realm from magic was to make Lightbringer. The sword lit up, didn't it?" Jon ignored him, replaying the moment he pulled the lit up sword from her chest. "This was prophesied a long time ago, Jon. From your first breath."

Jon huffed. He'd had enough prophesies for a lifetime. "Is that supposed to make me _feel better_, Davos?" The older man grimaced.

"No," He answered truthfully, staring at the sunset. "I hoped it could make it easier."

Jon dropped his gaze. "_Nothin'_ will make that easier." Davos looked into his dark eyes.

"You wouldn't have a heart if you said otherwise." He answered gently. "Talk to Bran. He'll be able to explain better than I could." He watched as the Onion Knight disappeared into the distance, his mind on Daenerys and Ygritte.


	6. The Wall

Jon loved the north but with Daenerys dead and her blood on his hands, he didn't feel he could love anything. He was home. He had survived more trips to King's Landing than any Stark. He had outlived most of the capital's population. It should've been good. He should get the laugh last, but nobody was laughing. Not after the evils they all stared in the face. Bran was omnipotent. Things like the Night King and White Walkers exist. Jon had died and was resurrected, Melisandre controlled fire...

The night was dark and full of terrors, that was all Jon could pull from this. Life. What good had come out of life? Their realm faced certain destruction at every turn. He stares over the frozen landscape and wonders if he should've let the White Walkers take the land. Or if Ned should've let Daenerys be murdered in infancy. Not that he could blame or fault her for most of what she did, but for the good of the realm... Could a man ever know what the good of the realm was? He didn't think so. There was no color in his world now, no life. Daenerys died and it seemed she really took magic with her. In every sense of the word.

He stood in the biting cold, staring at his brother's figure. He sat still on hill by the God's Tree. Jon shrugged his fur around him, he didn't feel much more comfortable in Stark gear than Targaryen anymore. He didn't know what he felt like, maybe No One. He wished he could erase his identity, he felt that would've done the realm good. He felt weirdly apprehensive approaching Bran. He had loved the child he left to go to The Wall, but he thinks that Bran died. Just as Rickon died. And Robb died.

But he was still in their realm, no matter how disconnected he felt. Jon couldn't help but feel as though he reported to him, like although he was agonizing over his choices a bigger player was simply controlling them. He shook the thoughts of his mind, ashamed of the man he'd become in the wake of Daenerys' death. _'The lone wolf dies but the pack dies...'_ He thought. The Starks were essentially the Targaryens of the north. They were no ordinary family. Their connection and essence to the North went hand in hand, and Davos was right. There were things the incredible boy could fill him in on. And he deserved answers. She deserved them too.

He approached Bran slowly, his dark hair in a signature half bun. Even though he came from behind he knew the man was there. "You did it, Jon Snow." He said finally, not bothering to face him. Jon walked into his view.

"Bran... Tell me." He looked around awkwardly. "How-"

"Who will sit on the throne?" It was a valid question, one Jon was glad to flee from King's Landing before answering. "Arya is returning home. Daenerys has disappeared." Jon shut his eyes at the mention of her name, she was all he ever thought about. "We are very vulnerable without a sitting king." Jon knew this was true, he just didn't want to get shoe-horned into the position like he had been for most of his life.

"That we are," He answered tensely. "Where is the boy she legitimized as a Baratheon. Cersei's children were bastards, his claim was ignored. We should send word for him." Jon suggested half-heartedly. He was tired of being adjacent to the Game Of Thrones. He was wise enough to know the ruler didn't matter, it was all the same.

"Gendry is dead." Jon's blood ran ice cold.

"No, h-"

"Daenerys' has had forces positioned around all her political enemies since she landed in Westeros." Bran told him plainly. "It was always to be her first act as queen. There are still Unsullied and Dothraki searching for Cersei and Jaime today. Their bodies were never recovered, and the spy reported seeing them on a boat." He covered his face, knowing Arya would be devastated when she found out. _'Or maybe she knew all along...' _

"How about Sansa? How many times does my sister have to prove she's smarter than us all? She was made for it, taking in all the lessons of psychopaths but still retaining her heart. I will support her." Bran turned slowly to face Jon.

"Her heart is in the North. She is lady of Winterfell, there always needs to be a Stark in Winterfell." He said cryptically, looking at the snow. "That won't be you if you are king or you go North of The Wall." Jon stooped down to Bran in surprise. "That's what you want, isn't it? To be with Ghost. You don't want to be king or south of The Wall anymore..."

He was absolutely right. He wanted to be up North, beside his dog where his presence couldn't hurt anybody else. His existence, Ned's promise to his mother, and his parent's union had completely wrecked the realm. He wouldn't allow it to continue._ 'I will correct Father's mistakes.'_ "That doesn't solve who will sit on the throne." Jon said, his face falling. "I _begged_ Davos, he won't have it. Nobody who's survived will have it, and not that many of us survived."

Bran blinked. "Go on, past the wall, Jon." The older man let out a frustrated growl.

"I can't leave the throne open to any madman, not after all we lost to save it! But I don't _want it,_ I don't_ want to_ be king. Will I end up like Robert Baratheon? Fat from no more conquerin', whorin' and drinkin' beside a woman who won't love me? With little_ bastards_ fathered by her brother under my nose? While they plot to have me murdered, while I chase after Cersei Lannister and Jaime's little bastard? I want_ none of it!_" He exploded, standing abruptly.

"_I don't want it."_ He breathed, tears leaking past his eye. "But I will_ do it._" Bran looked up into his face for a long time. "It is my duty."

"Take me south to King's Landing. Sit me on the throne, Jon." Jon shook his head in disbelief. "I know all of men's history, where and how we went wrong, what to do to ensure King's Landing can even be rebuilt. It will be a hard job, especially for someone like you." He motioned to himself. "Not for me. I don't want. _You_ want to go North Of The Wall. You should get to do what it is you want, now. Your watch should end."

Jon had been wrong. This _was_ his little brother, the little Bran who loved to climb and explore. Who wanted to be like Bran The Builder like Old Nan told. How could he have doubted him, doubted his bond to family? "_Oh Bran_..." He threw himself around him. "But who will be at _your_ side?" It wouldn't be hard to dethrone a crippled teenager.

"There's Sam, and Ser Davos. Arya, However many men Sansa want's lend to escort me. This is the only way the North and the Crown can be united, Jon. Don't worry for me." He knew his brother was right, still, he was willing to take that bullet to keep Bran safe. It felt wrong somehow.

"Are you _sure_, Bran?" He nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Okay. Let's tell Sansa. I'll take you wherever you want me to go." He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We couldn't have done any of this without you, Bran."_ 'The good, the bad... You are the most important Stark._' He looked into Jon's eyes, his expression unreadable as always. It sent Jon a chill. Wordlessly, he grabbed the handles of his wheeled-chair and rolled him toward their house.

* * *

King's Landing was still a ghost town. Some might've found it surprising, but not Jon. He knew that King's Landing could be empty for years, generations even. A city hadn't been brought to it's knees by dragons for hundreds of years. He wheeled Bran in silence, knowing he had seen first hand as well how terrible Daenerys' rage had been.

Charred bodies still laid strewn across the abandoned city, covered in sheets of ash. The sight made Jon's stomach drop to his shoes as he pressed forward, wheeling Bran as carefully as he could through the rubbish. They both stared at the massive throne, blood still staining The Keep's floor. The man turned his head away, trying to forget the queen's dying moments. Jon stopped right at the steps, looking up at the Iron Throne. How many lives had been ruined for the selfish thing? He shook his head in disgust.

Bran moved, drawing his attention. "Hold on, Bran." He said quietly. "I'll get y-" He stopped speaking when the boy shakily began pushing against the handles in his chair. Jon watched in silence, his mouth open. Slowly, the boy stood on obviously weak but functioning legs. Tears sprang to Jon's eyes. In those days, you were lucky to _live_ after Bran's injury. He knew he would never walk.

But he was wrong. Bran took a stuttering step towards the Iron Throne. Then another. In a few silent moments he stood right in front of it. He inhaled, turning to face his cousin as he descended into the iron seat. He stared straight ahead, his face as blank as ever. Jon had to admit he did look like belonged up there. The one person nobody would've ever expected, King Of The Seven Kingdoms.

Davos and Sam stared in wonder as Bran looked around the deconstructed Throne Room. "Armies," Bran began suddenly. "_Mãzigon naejot._" He said, shocking everyone by speaking fluent Valyrian. The breath escaped painfully from Jon's lungs. They watched as the armies flooded the throne room, pouring in through every hole.

The three men huddled together, Sam struggling not to tremble. "W-What's _goin'_ on..." He said, watching the soldiers line up before Bran.

"I thought Arya sent them away..." Davos growled, his mind beginning to worry for her. Something was wrong, and he didn't think Bran was who they thought he was. "Where is she, then?" Jon's hand hovered over Lightbringer, eyeing everyone in shock.

"Where's _Arya,_ Bran?" He watched, emotionless.

"She left this country as Daenerys. She will return as Arya." He explained, looking out over the rows of of soldiers.

"That wasn't the plan," Davos complained. "_They_ were supposed to leave!"

"I had to change the plan..." Jon turned around and eyed Bran. Realization washed over his face. How much hadn't been Bran? His brow furrowed in rage.

"_You_ did this,_ all_ of this!" He shouted, running towards the new king. Davos grabbed him, holding him back as he eyed the boy wearily.

"I had to, Jon." Bran blinked, knowing long ago Jon would have this reaction. He thought of all the things Bran told him, how carefully selected and told they were. Never mentioned a moment to soon. Through his warging ability, every change was tested and observed, eventually giving him the answers to everything he needed to know. Each ripple he created with knowledge was carefully and precisely calculated, from trying to communicate with Ned from trying to speaking with Daenerys.

"How much..." Jon seethed, his fists trembling. "_Tell me how much!_" Bran's head tilted to the side.

"What_ wasn't?_" He said, staring into his relative's eyes. "I don't want anything anymore. Everything that I've done_ had_ to be done."

"Says _who,_ Bran?" He burst from Davos' grasp and ascended the throne.

"JON," Sam shouted, certain the soldiers would kill him. The readied their weapons, all pointing at them.

"_They_ obey him..." Davos commented in awe. "This boy,"

"I warged into Arya, when she was Daenerys." Bran explained, still looking at Jon. "And told them she was searching for a new general, and to obey the young one who sits there in her absence. They are now my army, all of you may return home." He looked around them. "They will protect me from now on." Sam stumbled on his feet, feeling lightheaded.

"Y-You warged into a _human,_ Bran. I don't think.. Think that's ever been, been done in _history._.." He commented, straining his mind to the books he read to try to remember.

"I am not an ordinary warger, I_ am_ the Three-Eyed Raven." He explained. Jon threw his head in his hands with a frustrated cry.

"What _else_ did you interfere with." He demanded. "_Tell me_," Bran looked down at his feet.

"I spoke with father when he was your age. I watched your birth. I warged into Hodor as a child and made his mind what it was, what we'd always known._ I_ drove King Aerys mad." Jon's blood ran cold. "When I was still Bran, I could not control my powers. I went back in time and affected it, trying to advise the king against his murderous ways." Rage flowed through Jon's blood, he was fire & ice after all.

"And you didn't try to_ fix_ it? What else. I _know_ there's more." He snarled. "_Say it!_"

"I warged into the Night King so Arya could defeat him. I warged into Littlefinger to send the assassin for myself, ensuring that Catspaw would travel the land in precisely the way it has all these years, to Arya's hands." Sam held his head, trying to keep up with Bran's words. If his words were true he was everything Sam wanted to be. A keeper of time who could_ edit the past._ It was unprecedented.

Davos watched carefully, his eyes flicking from Jon back to Bran.

"What have you affected recently." Jon demanded, his eyes shimmering.

"I warged into Missandei to have her say dracarys." Jon knew it. He hadn't been there, but when he'd heard the girl from Naath's last words had been "fire" he hadn't believed it. It went against everything he knew of her, everything he'd seen. She supported Daenerys but she always preached for peace, the least bloodshed as possible. She had grown up a slave seeing enough. And Daenerys valued that perspective.

Then Missandei died in chains. She beat slavery only to die a slave again. Many didn't understand this but Jon couldn't see how Dany wouldn't have demolished King's Landing after. Cersei had did it just to hurt her.

"You drove her mad," Jon accused, his voice shaking. "_Just like her father."_

"I warged into Cersei to drop the final order. These things were all terrible, less than ideal, and they got us here." He looked all around him. "Where we have to be," He dropped his hands to his lap. "There was no other way, Jon. And no way mere man could achieve this. Your feelings, your thoughts, your honors are limitations. You are proof of that yourself."

With a scream, Jon ripped out Lightbringer, the sword going in flames instantly. "Who are_ you_ to know! There was another way-"

"I've done all the ways, Jon. How do you think I know?" He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. There was no way things had to end up like this. This was hell, the worst answer. A punishment for past sins. "Man cannot be depended upon to record history accurately. It is biased. War wipes out history, books, knowledge... But now they can only do that if they get to me." He looked out into the army. "_Mãzigon, nūha vali!_" He called.

They stood at Bran's attention. "I _am_ history, Jon. With Sam to dictate to, history will be preserved and protected like it was_ before_ Man. Before the Night King. With the Three Eyed Raven as the total ruler. With me here, and Sansa in the North, the age of enlightenment will commence. This was never about us, Jon. I'm sorry. This was the only option to keep our realm from being ashes." He smiled sadly at Jon. "Nobody knows how much you and our family has suffered like _I_ do. I am sorry." Jon shook his head.

"Bran, _how could you..._" He thought about Daenerys in that moment, her anguish, and Bran tipping her over the edge. Driving her father mad, giving her the title to grow into. It all began with Bran. His little brother he fought the odds to get back to. "_Everything..."_ He raised his sword. There was no more good of the realm, not to him. Both Davos and Sam began screaming. It wasn't fair, but killing Bran wasn't the answer, there were a lot of things he was right about.

"Jon!'" Sam screamed.

"Jon, they'll make swiss _cheese_ outta ya in five seconds!" Davos scolded, looking around the room anxiously.

"Do'ya think I _care_, Davos?" Jon growled back, looking into Bran's eyes. Sam cried out.

"Don't do this, Jon-"

"He _killed her_, Sam!" His face broke and the tears fell freely._ 'Daenerys..._' Then Bran held his hand up.

"_Kēligon."_ He demanded, and the whole army lowered their weapons. Jon watched carefully. "It's okay. I took choices from lots of people, most of all, Jon." He faced his older brother and stared into his eyes. "He deserves to be able to make this choice. To spare me, to slaughter me. To take the throne, to disappear into legends... Let him make it." He cocked his head to the side. "I already know he'll make the right one."

Jon's lip trembled as he tried to hold his sword steady. With a frustrated sigh he sheathed his weapon, the fire dimming. Even such betrayal could not turn him against Bran, the little boy he'd loved so much all those years ago. A pure child who always thought of him as his brother. He turned and marched off, dividing the army down the middle like a prophet. He disappeared into the ash covered city. He disappeared from history.

Jon Snow was never seen below The Wall again.

* * *

_A/N: Okay! I don't know if I'm stopping for good here. I might map out a continuation that could live up to the series. The finale comes on in 2 1/2 hours here! I made my goal, I finished my imagining of tonight's finale. To everyone who read it so far, thanks so much for reading. To everyone after, this was my take on the final Game Of Thrones. Hope you enjoyed!_


	7. The Next Chapter

_Somewhere in the __future, far across the Narrow Sea..._

* * *

It was a balmy day in Pentos. And Cersei Lannister was in labor. She never imagined herself not being queen in her lifetime. It had been her main goal since girlhood. She wanted to be queen and she wanted a crown. She deserved it. All her life she was underestimated as the lesser Lannister for her gender. It was unfair, how was she supposed to choose? Jaime was Tywin's golden child, the one with the shot to be somebody. Even Tyrion got to play at politics, but never Cersei.

She was always used as a pawn_ by_ her father, never by herself. She was fine with it when she was certain she would be married off to Rhaegar Targaryen, not so much when it was Robert Baratheon, the Usurper. She spent a lot of time dreaming of a world where Rhaegar defeated the rebellion, and she got to marry him... Who cares about a Mad King when that beautiful prince was around?

She screamed as another contraction wracked her, blood gushing out of her and on to Jaime's hands. They had made it across the Narrow Sea, just as Tyrion said. And before she went into labor. She couldn't die now, they had come way too far. She cried out, tears streaming down her face. "Jaime," She gasped, looking into his terrified eyes. "Jaime, I'm_ scared._.." She never imagined her birth would be like this. She was a_ queen_. And now, all she had was Jaime in their modest little shack in Pentos. And they were lucky to have that.

Jaime had sold everything he had of value on him (luckily a heavy bag of gold coin) except his golden hand and Widow's Wail. "Don't be. I'm _here._ We're about to meet our child." He smiled, tears in his eyes as he moved strawberry-blonde strands from her face. They had grown out in the months since Daenerys burned King's Landing. They had already heard word she was dead, at Jon Snow's hand no less.

_'The cunt deserved much worse...'_ She thought, even during labor. Cersei's vengeance knew no limits. Daenerys had taken everything from her, and for what? King's Landing would be fortunate to be rebuilt within two or three generations. Now the Lannisters were the new Targaryens. Exiled to a strange land, barely with their lives, giving birth to the true heir in chaos. 'And_ I thought I could never live down blowing up the sept and here Daenerys The Dragon-Born came... Cersei Lannister always gets what she wants.'_ She thought smugly, feeling herself die. _'I'm dying...' _She felt more blood seep around her thighs.

Blood was gushing freely from her as Jaime struggled desperately to stop it._ 'Damn it all..._' He thought. '_I can't lose you, not now...'_

_"Jaime..."_ She gasped, looking tiredly at the ceiling. Her color was fading as she pushed weakly, listening as the baby's cry was heard. Jaime laughed, feeling euphoric as the child entered his hands.

"He's here, Cersei. _He's here!_" He exclaimed, laughing as his twin screamed with one, final push. The baby cried weakly, it's umbilical cord still attached to Cersei's heat. She panted, laughing tiredly with relief as she heard her son's cry. She reached out weakly for him even though she felt like she would pass at any moment._ 'So weak...'_ She thought. _'My baby, it's mine!'_

"Give me,_ give me_..." She demanded, her hands wiggling. "Let me see, let me see." She frowned indignantly. "Is there anything wrong with him? Is he okay? Let me see..." She sobbed.

Jaime smiled, staring at the small bundle in awe. The baby was perfect. There was never a more perfect baby. He tried to stammer, completely flabbergasted that he and Cersei had created something so beautiful. "He's.. He, he's_ perfect_. Look at him..." He cut the umbilical with Widow's Wail and showed Cersei the perfectly healthy new born. She strained her eyes to focus, so relieved to see that her twin was right. He was flawless. Cersei had loved all children fiercely but this new babe was her everything. Perfect.

She reached, babbling incoherently as she stared down at him. He had cried upon birth but now the baby was silent, looking around him in suspicious wonder. Cersei smiled, so proud already of her son. "My angel..." She whispered, kissing him gently on a head of strawberry-blonde hair. He watched her carefully with green eyes. She was so elated at her perfect birth she barely noticed that she was still hemorrhaging.

Jaime was frantically stuffing any towels and sheets he could get his hands on, sweat dripping down his face as Cersei gushed more and more life giving blood. "Come on," He grunted in frustration. "Cersei, _sweet heart_. Stay with me..."

"Jaime..." She murmured, her voice slurring in fatigue. "_Jaime._.." She wanted to speak but she was just so tired. All she could think about was that prophecy the scary witch doctor had told her. Years ago when she was still a child.

_"And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands around your pale while throat and choke the life from you..."_

_'The witch was wrong,'_ She thought, near delirious from blood loss. '_They would never harm me.'_ This didn't count, right? Jaime had given her a perfect child, she didn't care if it killed her. She looked down at her son one last time with pride. Women in that year died from childbirth all the time, she wouldn't give Maggy The Frog the satisfaction of proving her bogus prediction right. _'I, Cersei Lannister, died the most noble woman's death. Bringing her young to the realm.'_

"Cersei, focus darling._ Focus on me."_ Jaime snapped, trying to rouse her from her sedated state._ 'She's losing too much blood...'_ He thought bitterly, kissing her pale hand. "Don't leave us, I can't do this without you."

Her white lips moved but Jaime couldn't understand what she said, even when he moved his ear closer to her mouth. Her mouth went slack and her eyes blank, Cersei was dead. Jaime carefully reached the child out of her arms and stared down at the love of his life. She had died the way she had always wanted to, making the ultimate sacrifice just like their mother did. And not in the ruins of the Red Keep as a dragon raged above.

He closed her eyes slowly, tears streaming silently down his face. "Your name," He said, looking down at the child in his arms. "Will be Ceran Lannister to me. Ceran Sand to the realm. And you mother died to bring you here." He brought the child's head to his lips in a kiss, staring at Cersei's still form.

* * *

"M'lady." Davos's voice cut through the wind whipping outside to approach Sansa deep inside her Winterfell home. He was relieved to find her younger sister in the North for once, and beside her sister. Sansa was a vision of beauty and grace in a classic, drapey sleeved, black gown detailed with grey leaves. A silver wolf crown sat on a head of bright, red hair. She was Queen In The North now, with Bran in King's Landing the North's independence was granted. She had always exuded royalty but now, Davos bowed in her presence.

It was all semantics, anyways. Sansa was smart enough to know that if her brother told her something, she needed to listen. Their forces were united, doubled. This was the only way of achieving a united kingdom, and the North was allowed to declare and express it's independence because power is not Bran's goal, protection of the realm was.

Arya stood beside her, resembling her father and her aunt as always. His eyes lingered on a fading scar above her eye. Her hair was still in a half bun, multiple weapons attached to her side. Both girls smiled at the older man as he delivered a parcel to them. "From Jon." He filled in, his eyes wistful. He missed the Targaryen. He understood why he left but he still thought of him often, wondering if being exiled brought him peace. Jon was a good man, he deserved that much.

Arya snatched the more elongated pack quickly, leaving the softer one for Sansa. The older girl snorted, certain her package contained furs and jewelry. Sansa was correct, finding bright white fox fur wrapped crudely. She gasped, running her fingers through the plush fur. "It's unreal..." She breathed, thinking about the warm dress she could have made. "Thanks, Jon." She whispered.

Arya opened hers to reveal what appeared to be another Valyrian steel dagger, emeralds encrusting the handle. In it, a single note that said "Dawn".

"_Dawn_." Arya repeated, a smile on her face. She examined it with excitement as Davos and Sansa watched. "Jon _always_ knows what I need." Davos eyed her wearily, ruffling a hand through her hair.

"Like it would be so hard to shop fer ya." He commented, looking between the Stark girls. "Ya girls miss him, _don'ch_a? He misses you too. He's always sendin' ya things." Both Sansa and Arya's faces glower.

"We miss him. _A lot._" Sansa pressed. Sansa had written letters begging for their brother to return but they didn't know how to find him. She'd even asked Bran to help but he declined breaching Jon's privacy.

"Yeah, but I understand." Arya with a small shrug. "I love him, but he was broody _before_ he met Daenerys..." Sansa snorted again. Davos rolled his eyes.

"The man deserves his peace. Nothin' more peaceful than goin' north of The Wall with some Wildling's. That's what he's really doin', hangin' with Tormund's crew." The thought made both Sansa and Arya smile. They knew that would make Jon happy, and if anything he deserved that.

"This one wants to leave_ too_," Sansa spilled, eyeing her younger sister with a cocked eyebrow. Davos turned to Arya, who's face turned red.

"_Sansa,_"

"_Leave?_ To where?" He asked incredulously. "What about your sister?" Arya stuck her tongue out at the red head.

"Oh, come on. Sansa knows I don't sit still well." A determined look washed over her features. "Besides, I wanted travel west." She explained.

"_West_?" Sansa pressed.

"West, girl? Y'know nobody's _ever_ come back after goin' west of Westeros." Arya's smirk broadened.

"Exactly. I want to find out. It could be paradise for all we know!" Sansa shook her head, chuckling quietly.

"Yes, among _other_ things..." Davos smiled at them both, knowing Arya's mind was made up. He clasped an arm around the brown-haired girl.

"Sittin' idle don't suit you." He nodded towards Sansa. "I'll look after the _Queen In The North_." He promised, his eyes firm. Arya grinned.

"I know, and unlike_ other_ explorers..." She moved closer to Sansa, a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back." Sansa shared a knowing look with her sibling. She never imagined they would be this close, once. She thought she'd marry into being the queen back then, not lead the North after earning it. Things were different, but the Starks had gotten through it.

Still, both girls couldn't help but feel ominous. They kept reminding each other,_ 'the lone wolf dies but the pack survives...'_ But they were splitting up. Jon beyond the wall, Sansa in Winterfell, Arya exploring unknown land, and Bran in King's Landing. They were literally all over the map, and it didn't bode well for her. Still, they all needed to follow their destinies. They earned it. They made their way back to each other once, they would do it again.

Still, the smaller girl threw herself around her sister in a tight embrace. Sansa sighed, shutting her eyes and hoping this wasn't the last time she saw Arya. Ned lived on the most in her, and it was comforting. They squeezed one another tight and broke apart reluctantly. It would be the last time they saw each other for a while. "You can't really see Jon, but visit Bran on your way." Sansa nagged, her Catelyn-like tendencies showing. Arya nodded.

"I will." She turned to the silver-haired man. "So long, Ser Davos." She held a hand out but the man pulled her into an embrace, thinking about somebody else who didn't get to be as old as young Arya. He leaned his chin on her head and sighed.

"Be well, little Stark. And be careful. The night-"

"Is dark and full of terrors." She flipped the dagger Jon gave her and caught it. "I know, that's the best part." She shrugged black fur around her that Jon had sent. "If Jon sends anything else, I guess you and Sansa can fight over it." Davos chuckled.

"We'll be honored. Farewell." They both waved and watched as Arya climbed atop her white mare and rode off into the distance. Sansa sighed, her hair pulled back the same way her mother used to wear it.

"I worry about her." She said after her form disappeared. Davos placed a gentle hand on her back.

"Me too, Lady Stark. Me too."

* * *

Jon missed his sisters. He even missed Bran, who he could hardly call his sibling who had most likely manipulated every moment that led to him being king. But he did not miss being south of The Wall. Only heartache and pain followed him there, no matter how long of a break in between. His family had almost been extinguished, and for years were spent scattered across the world. He felt bad for contributing to them splitting up. But he did not feel bad for abandoning what was known as 'the realm'.

The realm had ruined Jon's life. Now, he could live in peace. He lived in a timeless world. The Wildlings came and went, settling wherever was habitable in the harsh winter (which flared up suddenly once it looked ready to thaw). He couldn't help but think of his sister, winters were brutal in the North and he was certain Arya had taken off. Still, he portioned off skins and things he came across to send to his family. He was never far from the freefolk but never too close either. His days were peaceful, simple, and blended into one another. They were all and endless expanse of white and that's how he wanted it.

It was all he ever asked for. No Queen. No King. No war. No Night's Watch. No responsibilities.

Here, he could cause pain to no one. Here, he could dream of Daenerys endlessly. The moments before it all went bad. Before he knew she was his aunt. Before he found out he was a Targaryen. Before he knew he had a claim to the throne. When he could still close his eyes when he kissed her, still hold her so close she was a second skin... Or was the Ygritte? He still longed for those days when he knew nothing, or maybe to back in that cave.. He watched Ghost grow old and die aching for these two women, wishing of memories that made him feel at home. Only the cold made him feel so at home anymore.

Ghost's death had to mark about ten years of living in mostly solitude through winter. He had since found another direwolf he called Storm, a grey beast with a black patch on his face. That's when he saw her. Weeks after he buried his friend in the frozen tundra. She didn't look like any wildling he'd ever seen, and ten years past The Wall he had seen them all. She was breathtaking. Stunning. In a scary way, like Daenerys had been. She was young though, Sansa's age when they were split up. She had a full head of fire engine red colored hair with a silvery, blonde streak in the front. _Targaryen_ silver.

He stared at her for a long moment as she stood, silently in the raging blizzard. He was convinced she was a vision. The blizzard had raged for weeks, he didn't remember the last time he saw another person. She had a thin cloth wrapped around her Jon was certain wasn't doing anything. He grabbed an extra fur stole and ventured into the snow, grumbling to himself. She was a runty girl who reminded him of Arya a little bit. She had her hair pulled in a half pony with the silver part left free in a braid.

She was a summer child, and she did not belong North of his Wall. Jon scowled at her, not excited to have his peace and quiet broken. "Hey," He called through cupped hands. "Are ya_ tryin'_ to die?" He asked her in annoyance. She looked at him with green eyes and stared, unmoving. Like she was in a trance. He approached her closer, shrugging the dark fur over her. "Come on," He snapped, tugging her along roughly. "We'll figure out somethin' to do with you later..."

* * *

"Your Grace." He didn't Acknowledge Brienne but she knew he was listening. Ten years time and Bran didn't much resemble his parents or any known Starks. He remained small of stature from being wheelchair bound, his dark hair growing long and shaggy. His eyes were still as haunting and hollow. He was still often draped in furs as he spent the day warging over his kingdom, doing what he could to protect the realm from fragile people. "You Grace, there appears to be a problem..."

She was still as strong a fighter as she had been back then, with Jaime Lannister fighting against the Army of the dead. She finally let her blonde hair grow out in a curly bob, not afraid of her more feminine side. Life was too short, plus her fighting had been infrequent under Bran's reign. Problems were fixed before they started. It was uncanny, but a post Daenerys King's Landing was grateful for the era of peace, no matter how uncomfortable Bran made them. She had intended to fulfill her oath to Catelyn Stark and watch over her daughters, but Bran needed it most. Sansa had commanded her to. So with Bran she went. The Stark girls all seemed a bit tougher than him, anyway.

The king turned to face her. "Problem?" He asked, his voice even.

"The lands... Above Drogon's resting place. They've been disturbed." Bran blinks, his face as blank as ever. "There appears to be nothing down there." Bran turned, looking more out of the window of the recently repaired Keep.

"I see." Brienne waited impatiently for some other comment or instruction.

"Does this not bother your Grace?" She pressed, the anxiety written in her features. A lot of the realm was not aware of the magic at play in Westeros. Only the North and its allies saw the Night King and the Army Of The Dead up close. To everyone else it was a spirited rumor. Brienne Of Tarth had seen things she could not explain, and Bran was one of those things. Even though it was unlikely Drogon's bones that were stolen, she knew there were ways the dragon could be revived. And that was worst case scenario.

"I think it shouldn't, no." Bran responded, as distant as ever. "Thanks for letting me know." She nodded awkwardly, hoping that she didn't see the return of dragons in her lifetime. King's Landing still wasn't the same from Daenerys' firebombing.

He remembered looking up into the eyes of the Night King before Arya leapt into the clearing. It felt like an eternity of staring at the seemingly language-less entity. He had been defeated, right? Targaryens had very fanatic fans, he wasn't concerned. He was the most magical being in Westeros. Or so he thought.

* * *

"The lord of light brought me here." The beautiful Red Priestess exclaimed to her followers, gathered around a nearly frozen pond. "For him, I will bring back Daenerys, The Dragon-Born to bid thy will! I will retrieve our divine ruler and _resurrect_ her, and in her image she will remake the world!" The fanatics cheered and cried as Kinvara turned to face them. She had more or less taken over for Melisandre in her absence. She knew what her disappearance meant. _'Melisandre's watch has ended.'_ She thought, looking over the dirty faces of her followers.

She gestured to a filthy faced, dark haired boy who acted as a sort of squire to the Red Priestess. He was orphaned and she had seen something useful in him. Horeo stumbled at her side, pulling his beige colored cloths around him. It was freezing in the North, why was a Targaryen laid to rest in a frozen wasteland? He hated to admit it, but he was starting to doubt the priestess' word. Melisandre had been the last, true Red Priestess and history said she died in The Battle Of Winterfell, aiding the North.

Kinvara hadn't proved her worth as a shrine maiden, yet. "The child will bare witness to my religion, and accompany me to those who will aid in Daenerys Stormborn's resurrection! His innocence will guide me well." The people cheered and cried as the men lowered the hooks and chains into the pond. Everyone watched as Kinvara shut her eyes and began to pray quietly to herself. The men wrenched and tugged, claiming to have caught something.

'_If her body was put here 10 years ago, there's no way it'll be found now...'_ Horeo watched her skeptically as her chanting became more intense. Her hands even began to glow faintly. He watched in shock as the men pulled the chains, clearly having caught something. _'It can't be...'_ The icy, white hair broke the surface first. It was the same color as the snow around them. Some people began to scream while others stared mutely.

"_Ãeksiot Ōño,_" She called out in fluent valyrian, silencing everyone as she performed the incantation. Her dark hair clung to her neck with sweat as she chanted. "_Lendnyke kustikãne syt se zaldrīzes jentys_!" She cried, her hands growing brighter. The men shouted as they tugged together, Daenerys' body appearing. She was perfectly preserved, her hands folded across her bust. Jon had even buried her with a tiny dagger from her house that was on the Iron Throne.

Kinvara collapsed to her knees in exhaustion as people bowed. Horeo studied Daenerys' perfect features. She was white as snow, her lips parted in the saddest smile. Blue veins crawled over her closed eyelids. Her body sat there frozen since she was murdered. This wasn't normal, this _had_ to be because she was Targaryen, a chosen one. Horeo hesitantly followed and lowered himself, bowing before Kinvara.

"All hail Kinvara!"

"Protector Of The Realm!"

"Protector of Dear Queen Daenerys!" Kinvara looked up in shock, accepting her praise humbly. She would pick up where Melisandre left off, the latter had worked tirelessly for centuries._ 'I will cleanse this wretched place,'_ She thought, watching everyone grovel before her._ 'With a Song Of Ice And Fire.'_ Her smile became proud as she looked at the Targaryen's flawless body._ 'They did not take fire,_' She eyed the tiny blemish where Jon had cut her down, a scar under her breast. _'Then we will use ice.'_ She climbed to her feet, dusting clumps of snow from her blood hued robes.

"The Breaker Of Chains will live again." The peasants cheered, not really sure what that exactly meant. But it sounded better to them all to have as former dragon rider lead them than a crippled boy in from the North. "Today, her second reign starts. As our Queen Of The Night!" The people cheered again, even as Kinvara's stare became a little sinister. _'I will finish what was started.'_


	8. Naejot se dōros

Jon watched the scrawny girl shovel the young deer he had managed to hunt and prepare. She ate like her hunger was never quelled, barely waiting between bites to shovel more in her mouth. He watched with a mixture of amazement and disgust as she ate, nothing but the sound of her chews filling the modest hut he built himself. He brought a piece to his mouth, dark eyes fixated on the strange girl.

It was weird having company. It wasn't unwelcome but he didn't want to forget the reason he exiled himself. It was as much for other other people as it was him. His identity and existence was dangerous, he had learned this previously in his life. His years south of the wall had proved as much. He was related to the former ruling dynasty and the current. People would want to follow him or kill him, he wanted none of it. Still, he had to wonder how a girl so clearly from across the Narrow Sea had ended up north of The Wall.

He was sure trying to find out would only lead to trouble. But as he watched her glare with green eyes so familiar, he decided he was fine with that. "Ever ate before, girl?" He sneered, a mean grin on his face. Time alone and beyond the wall had changed Jon. He had resolved to go against his magnetic nature. If he was who he was he would make people want to be around him. He has to be callous and cold, even to his friends. He thinks of how different things had been if Daenerys hadn't loved him.

"I'm hungry." She answered, her eyes narrow. Jon nodded, the smile hanging off his face.

"How did a skinny, Pentosi runt like you end up North of_ my_ wall?" He asked, biting into a leg of partridge. The girl cocked an eyebrow, some small dignified part of her shocked that he'd asked her a question instead of who she was.

"You haven't asked my name, yet." She pointed out, proud, like little Sansa was. Jon snorted to himself.

"Perhaps because I don't care." He commented, bringing a warm broth to his lips. "Ya won't be here long. I'll drop ya off w'the Wildlings or you'll get sick of me yourself and go off in the snow." Her eyes narrow even further as he continues eating gayly.

"Oh? Tell me your name, then,_ stranger._" She said, her eyes glittering with a strange emotion. Jon chuckled.

"You're a demanding child." He filled in, eyeing her with a blank face. She studied the scar over his eyes and the many, little nicks all over his face you could see if you looked hard enough. His hair was black as night with few tendrils of snowy silver creeping through, showing his age. His dark eyes were mostly impassive, hiding from some emotion the girl couldn't place. Maybe she'd never felt it.

"Woman." She corrected, her eyes shining indignantly. Jon barked out a laugh that caught his direwolf's attention.

"You're but a girl." He said as though he weren't impressed. "An _annoying_ one at that..." He eyed her wearily as he bit another piece of hen. The haughtiness faded to fatigue, the girl looked too exhausted to be annoyed with him.

"What is your name? Why did you call it _your_ wall?" She asked him slowly. A thousand memories flooded him and his eyes became dark.

"Because, when nobody wants somethin' you can call it yours. Look around us, girl." They both looked out the window at the raging blizzard that awaited them outside. "Nobody wants this. They built a wall to separate civilization off. That and to block us from-"

"The others." The girl answered distantly. A chill went down Jon's spine.

"What do _you_ know about others, you probably weren't born when Others still walked this earth." He answered harshly, the memories of wights and White Walkers flooding his mind rapidly. His eyes glazed over, thinking of all the times he'd encountered the wights._ 'Hell on earth...'_ He thought, sweat dripping down his brow. The only thing as wretched as that he'd seen was Daenerys burning King's Landing. The girl's gaze dropped solemnly, as though she was used to that reaction.

"I know, but still... I've _seen_ them." She looked away, remembering how her mother desperately tried to stop her from speaking her dooming visions. "Some could speak to dragons or use their animals as an avatar... But I have to see these visions." Jon sat upright, his face hard.

"Visions of _what?_" She avoided his black eyes.

"Of snow, as far as the eye can see." Jon relaxed a little, winter had been coming for years and it finally arrived. "Even across the Narrow Sea, where beaches should crash against sand. Only snow. Down in King's Landing, down in the warmest, marshiest lands..." She began to tremble slightly, catching Jon's attention. "Crystal blue eyes as far as the eye can see, piercing through the darkness. You're either dead or you're one of them-"

Jon grabbed her wrist with lightning reflexes that showed her he was a fighter once. Probably still was, if he had to be. He snapped her from her trance and she stared fearfully at his grisled, war-torn face. Her breath caught in her throat as he seemed to peer into her soul with his black stare. "Don't _ever_ speak such things, you hear me?" He let go of her as suddenly as he grabbed her. "Someone will cut your throat so fast..." He cut himself off, realizing he didn't feel like telling the story about the Battle Of Winterfell right now.

She held her wrist as thought he'd burned it with his touch. She stared at her arm as though she'd be marked. _"Vaehna_..." She uttered softly, catching Jon's attention. "My name is Vaehna Celnaris. I am from Pentos." He stared at her for a long moment.

"What are you, high Valyrian?" He asked, a scowl on his face. "You ought to change your name to something that wouldn't catch a whole lot of attention." He stood abruptly, going to stoke the fire while the girl watched.

"My mother thought Valryian was the most beautiful language she'd ever heard, and that Targaryens had the prettiest names." She said, her voice quivering in frustration. Jon's face softened slightly but he was turned to the fire.

"It all thinks it sounds better than everything else." He commented, reaching for some furs and garments. He tossed them unceremoniously at the girl. "You might want to shroud yourself in something like this 'til I get you to that Wildling colony..." He looked outside the window. "Leaving now would be suicide, although being stuck here with you might be as well." The grey direwolf was sniffing at the girl quizzically, causing her to stiffen.

"You didn't tell me your name." She reminded him. "I told you mine..." Jon rolled his eyes, reaching down and touching Storm tenderly.

"It's _Griff_." He commented, a smile hanging off his face. She looked him up and down for a moment, studying his strong stature. He was short but broad, several swords clanging on his waist. Fur as dark as his hair hung around his shoulders, giving him the slight appearance of a king. His wavy, dark hair was past his shoulders now, and still kept in the signature top knot he left south of The Wall with.

He was as handsome and captivating as he was rude. Vaehna kept her observations to herself. "That isn't your _real_ name." She said after a while, wrapping herself in the plush furs.

"It is if it say it is." He commented, looking around his modest hut and sighing. '_I am not equipped to entertain for long, if it all...'_ "You won't have a comfortable stay here, but stay if you like. Until you can survive the trek to the Wildlings..." Her face screwed up.

"I'm not staying with the Wildlings!" She protested, small hands clutched in fists. Jon chuckled.

"Why did you come up here anyways? What did you expect? The sun and more beaches? Should've stayed across the Narrow Sea, girl. It won't get much better than this." He snarled at her, his eyes frigid as the snow outside. "This isn't even the North, this is beyond The Wall. If ya don' like it go back south. Try your luck there." He opened the door and the direwolf fell in line beside him.

Vaehna stood, the furs flapping around her. "G-Griff... Wait! Where are you going?" He paused, staring at her in a doorway illuminated in white. _'What do I care where he goes, anyways?'_

"Out." He responded, the wolf frolicking in the snow before him. He shut the door behind him and it was silent. Vaehna sat down and pulled the furs around her and thought about Jon Snow's face. '_Who was he...'_

* * *

The look on Jaime's face is complicated. He and Ceran are on a beach in Pentos, as they often are. They don't have much (at all) but Jaime likes to think he loves his life. His son is all he had. He couldn't even publicly claim and look after his other children with Cersei, and they died for too quickly for him to anyways. Ceran was his chance to get it right. All of Cersei's cunning and intelligence and his noble, pure heart. A combination like that would be unstoppable.

And even if he couldn't claim their golden name, the Lion, Tywin could know he didn't let their line die. Ceran was a quiet boy, but an excellent listener. He was a dead ringer for Jaime. A flawless, well built, handsome boy. Jaime's face with Cersei's sneer. Every time he looked at the boy he felt his twin's presence with him. It was the most comforting feeling. He knew his Cersei would not be, but he was kind of glad to have the chance to raise Ceran away from the disillusionment of the crown.

He had a chance to really rectify the mistakes he made a long time ago. For duty, for honor, and for love. By raising an honorable son. But Ceran was busy listening, reading between the lines of his father's words. He was barely ten now, and hundreds of times had he heard the stories of his mother trading her life for his. He was more interested in the stories of the crown. The Kingdom. A place called King's Landing where his parents had enough sense to live before he was born._ 'Why move to this dirt trap after I get here...'_ He hated Pentos. He hated being across the Narrow Sea from what his father said. He didn't belong there.

"But that King's Landing I speak of, my son, it no longer exists." He explained sadly. "It was burned down by a Targayren. There has not been enough time to restore it to anywhere near it's former glory. We Lannisters," He ruffled his son's hair affectionately but he didn't smile. "We wouldn't want what remained of King's Landing, not when we had it_ before._ It's but a skeleton now, a burned carcass, Ceran..."

But it was a kingdom. Pentos would never be a place fitting for royalty. Fitting for him. "Your mother..." Jaime continued, staring out into the setting sun. "She survived a dragon-burning for you. She _loved_ you, Ceran, even if she can't be here. I want you to know that." His son matched his stare, watching blackbirds fly over head.

"Tell me about the Mad Targaryen." He pressed, his voice flat. "And the kingdom she burned. And about how you were the best knight in... in _Westeros_, before you lost your hand." The child turned urgently and stared into his father's eyes. '_I want to know it all.'_ His stare said. "Tell me about your golden hand... About fighting a dragon!"

Jaime chuckled at the boy's persistence. He didn't have a close or very normal relationship with Tywin, and he'd certainly been the favorite between the imp and the hysterical daughter. But, it was normal for a boy to ask these things. Jaime had lived a fairy-tale life, at least, from the outside looking in. He ruffled his hair. "Soon, Ceran. When you're a little older..." The child looked to his fathers missing hand. "_Soon._"

* * *

Horeo trudged faithfully behind Kinvara, Daenerys' precious body dragging behind them on a makeshift sled. The frozen temperatures kept her well preserved, and Kinvara was feeling confident and positive about her resurrection abilities. Horeo had heard and seen a lot about resurrections done by 'The Lord Of Light', especially hanging around a Red Witch.

They were all just extensions of the Lord Of Light's mission. After recovering the doomed Targaryen princess, the magic in Horeo's life kicked into overdrive. Kinvara was communicating with the fire almost every night. After a while, the communications were hidden from the boy. He was too young and pure for these tough conversations with gods, rumbling voices he could barely hear.

Horeo's mother had died in child birth, like many in that time did. He was expelled from her corpse and was discovered by the Red Priestess. She asked her lord for a glimpse of his life and was granted. She said no more and took the child with her, carrying him along wherever she went. He was grateful to her despite his doubts. The goals of Red Priestesses were so clandestine and hard to trust, no matter how many times they proved right.

They had the Dragon Princess. They would depose the all knowing king who defied the Old Gods! At least, he thought that's what Kinvara slaved to do. They had traveled for months endlessly into the white of beyond The Wall. He was starting to think they might die out there. They hadn't seen signs of civilization in weeks. If they went much farther the boy was convinced the Others would sense them.

Kinvara only smiled as the boy told of his worries. Priestesses didn't have to worry about anything it seemed like. He looked out at all the snow, as far as his young eyes can see, and he wished he was a priestess too. He thought he was hallucinating the seeming ice shelf they spotted in the distance, separated by snow. He pulled the ratty furs he had around him and squinted_. 'Are we back at the wall?'_ He wondered, feeling a sinister magic at play.

It was different, clearly a cave was seen at the bottom. _'Who would live out here? In this cave? Who could survive...'_ He wondered as Kinvara approached the opening confidently. "Riñar hen guēsin." She called, her arms spread around her. Horeo looked at her skeptically, always shocked when she broke into the ancient language. It showed her true age, no matter how beautiful and vivacious she seemed. "Riñar hen guēsin. Children," She repeated. "I am friend. A friend of the Lord Of Light, and of yours. Come, I am here to help."

Horeo watched her skeptically as again, her hands began to glow. He looked around, suddenly feeling as though they were not alone...


	9. Queen In The Night

Horeo watched in shock as slowly, small nymphs poured out of the cave's opening. He didn't feel like he was in the same realm anymore. He had trekked far for his age by traveling with Kinvara, but he'd never seen anything like this. It was impossible that delicate, faeries inhabited. They were the color of moss, covered in shimmering fabrics, flakes, leaves and vines. Like they sprouted from the earth. They crowded around each other, huddled together and watching Kinvara expectantly. They were weary of all humans still, even the witches and priestesses.

The Night King had been destroyed by The North and it's allies, yet still the children didn't live free and travel beyond the wall. Kinvara grinned as the shivering boy, shrouded in ragged furs watched her in wonder._ 'She was strong enough to summon these creatures..'_ He rubbed his eyes as if he were dreaming. '_Just like it stories and myths.'_ She looked at the tiny statured creatures for a long moment before speaking.

"The Night King... The Children's creation, has finally been destroyed." Horeo looked up at her in wonder_. 'T-They created the Others... No, no way.'_ "And yet, you do not flourish." She gestured widely with her arms at the bleak, white walls of snow around them. "Because Winter is still here." The Children gazed at her silently, and Horeo had to wonder if they could even understand her tongue. If they could, they didn't show it.

"Maybe because an even worse threat faces you and the realm, now." Her stare became harder. "Not only was the Night King destroyed, but the Three Eyed Raven, _he_ sits on the throne." The Children began to murmur amongst themselves, being fully aware of who and what the Three Eyed Raven was. "He was supposed to be a foil, an answer who could finally rewrite history if need be to defeat the Night King and the Others, right?" Slowly, the nymphs nodded one by one. "Him manipulating events to ensure _his_ reign, sacrificing millions for his greater good (ruling), and even placing his family in every part of our realm. His sister in the North, and bastard brother beyond the wall. He is a _true ruler,_ he can warg over the narrow sea and play politics there."

The Children's muttering became louder. "May I provide a solution." She snapped, and the two mute followers who had traveled silently with the priestess and the boy came forward. They pulled the sheet that was covering Daenerys' perfectly preserved body up, revealing her to them. "The last Targaryen. The ashes of the last dragon! The Fire Born." She looked down on the magical creatures with a hard stare. "She tried to break the wheel, cleanse this world in Fire & Blood! And the bastard Jon Snow murdered her."

She gestured her arm gracefully towards Dany. "Make _her_ your soldier to correct one final mistake. That thing cannot manipulate the realm for the foreseeable future, he was made to destroy the Night King. Not_ rule_ our realm. All Daenerys wanted was _willful, loving_ subjects." She walked over to her chilled body and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face the forest nymphs again. Horeo backed away slowly as Kinvara's hands began to glow. "_Riñar! Mazverdagon īlva iã bantis dãria!_" She clenched her hands into fists. "Children! Make her your Night Queen! Daenerys only wanted a kingdom, full of subjects. The whole _world_ will become White Walkers! One Race, united under our queen! The dead will be her army! And The Children will claim back their land!"

Horeo looked up at Kinvara in horror as The Children Of The Forest began cheering._ 'T-They're actually cheering? They tried to wipe us out with White Walkers, and then created something else that got the throne? And the answer is to make everyone an ice monster? How, she was basically my mom... How is she-'_ Kinvara's face darkened as she snapped her fingers again, the nameless men grabbing the boy, their faces blank. One man had a scar on his face and beady eyes and weather-worn skin, the other looked maybe 5 or 6 years older than Horeo. He looked around and tugged helplessly as they brought him before the Red Priestess.

She stared down at the boy she'd fostered for his short ten years of life, tears behind dark eyes. "K-Kinvara! What's happening?" He cried, tried to keep tears from streaming down his face. "Y-You don't mean it. You aren't turning the whole world into Others, _are you? Kinvara_..."

_She remembered traveling through the desecrated remains of King's Landing over a decade ago. Kinvara looks the same as every other Red Priestess. Deceptively youthful looking and hauntingly beautiful. It is one of many perks of serving the Lord of Light. Many survivors of Daenerys' initial burning perish of hunger and sickness in the coming days and weeks. _

_The Lord Of Light had spoken to her. 'Find the soul so we can revive our true Queen.' It had taken a lot of time and trial and error to understand her God's clandestine words. He urged her to wander, let his influence guide her. So she did. She traipsed through Daenerys' handiwork, the gutted and burned ruins of King's Landing. She stopped when she heard the faintest cry, so pitiful and pathetic. _

_She rushed through rubble and the remnants of people towards the sound. Suddenly, she knew that was what she needed to be doing. She came to a dead, pregnant woman laying amongst blood and debris. The ash clouding the the area seemed to get her, her skin turning green and her eyes rolled into her head. Kinvara reached down and rolled the woman's bloated corpse, seeing the tiny, black haired baby shielded by her. Slowly, the priestess reached out and touched the baby's forehead. She ripped her hand back as though the infant were hot to the touch. _

_'He is this one...' He was the soul. 'You will know how to use him when the time comes, take him for now.' _

She shut her eyes, blocking out the pointless feelings bubbling up in her throat. She was centuries old, there was no point to feelings. Especially for a lowborn bastard child with nothing to his name. But still, she pitied him. And she hated herself for not sending him far away from her. Kinvara believed in her Lord fully, she knew people would be hurt and stepped on to achieve their goals. And the Lord Of Light would prefer this plan to the most powerful warger in history on the Iron Throne, she knew that. Kinvara swallowed hard.

"For things to be changed, for things to be right..." She looked back on the still Targaryen behind her. "We have to make _sacrifices_. Let me show you, Children, who my allegiance is to. The _Lord Of Light's_ allegiance is to." She sucked in a heavy breath and snapped, one of the men producing Drogon's ashes. The Children watched in silence as they were placed on a pyre, and soon after, Horeo.

The little boy began blubbering instantly when even he could see what she meant to do. "N-No! Kinvara no, _please don't_. Please don't burn me, please! I'll be _good_ Kinvara, I'll be good! Please,_ I love you!_" He shouted, snot dribbling out of his nose and starting to freeze. He wriggled furiously against the mens' grips but it was useless. He was only ten years old, and definitely malnourished. He was tied to a pike in less than a minute. His breaths tumbled out hard and heavy as he watched the Red Priestess. "_Kinvara-"_

"_Blood of my blood!_" She screamed, her hands held high. "_Bōsa ondor kostas ōres, vãedar suvio perzo!_ Long may she reign!" Her voice boomed through the raging blizzard as the Children watched. "Take my blood! Take my sacrifice! Take this blood to revive Drogon The Dread for our queen!" She proclaimed, her hands still glowing. "Oh Lord Of Light! _Bōsa ondor kostas ōres!_" She repeated as Horeo sobbed, his extremities going numb in the seering cold.

"K-Kinvara, please.._. Please don't do this._" The child begged, searching for anything in her eyes. She matched his dark eyes with her own, a cold emotion hidden in them. _'Forgive me...'_ She thought, wondering how many times she'd done this.

"_Dracarys_." She had barely uttered the word when the pike was lit ablaze by an unseen force. Horeo erupted into horrifying screams that made the priestess feel sick. Not the Children, though, they grew closer and watched the blaze in wonder. The older man who had followed them snickered as Horeo cried out in agony, his nerves getting seared off by the flames of a god. '_Why...'_ The child thought, begging for the end. Kinvara dropped her hands, her breaths shallow as the child burned like a cut of meat.

He went silent finally after three minutes. The smell of burnt flesh and hair permeated the area. Wordlessly, a girl looking nymph approached the body of Daenerys. In her hands, a jagged piece of Dragonglass. She stared at the mark on her skin where Jon had stabbed her. Wordlessly, she plunged the obsidian into the wound, Kinvara approached quickly, already forgetting the boy's burning corpse.

"_Sigligon sigligon dãria zaldrīzoti_." She chanted, her hands shaking over Daenerys' body. "_Sigligon sigligon dãria zaldrīzoti!"_ She repeated more forcefully. The Children watched her expectantly. "_Sigligon sigligon dãria zaldrīzoti! Sigligon sigligon dãria zald-"_ Daenerys gasped suddenly and a scream rattled out of her throat. The Children began to scream and cry out as the Dragonglass immediately began to transform the Targaryen princess into something else. Kinvara fell to her knees, utterly exhausted from calling on The Lord Of Light so much.

She watched as Daenerys continued to scream, her eyes changing from green to piercing blue. Blue veins spread throughout her naked body as the obsidian disappeared inside of her, red blood pooling at the entry point. Her screams echoed through the barren, snow covered lands as an other-wordly, blue hue began to take over the former queen. She looked at herself in wonder, certain that wherever she'd went had been death, and _Jon_ had sent her there.

She tried to speak, to demand answers, but she found herself strangely tongue tied as the transformation continued. In a few moments, she realized what had been done. She'd not only been _revived_, but reborn as some sort of Valyrian White Walker. She retained her foreign beauty and looks but her skin was a pallid, pale blue now. Her hair was an icy white, her blue eyes seeing through the whipping blizzard perfectly. She stood and looked around at the First Children, the fire pit, and then the Red Priestess.

"..."

Daenerys reached down suddenly and grabbed the Red Witch by the hair, causing her to cry out shrilly. "Y-Your Grace, _please_-" Kinvara gasped as Daenerys lifted her and slammed her icy hand around her throat. She squeezed, mercilessly, her blue eyes burning through Kinvara like her dragon's Wight fire. "P-Please... _Together,_ we can ressurect Drogon. You can _have_ your kingdom-" She begged. She stood naked, the witch dangling easily in her grip. Daenerys thought about her dragon's hatching in the fire of that witch's pyre.

She released the Red Witch and stared at her expectantly. Kinvara stumbled, coughing as she rubbed her throat daintily. She stared at the revived Valyrian wearily, then back at Horeo's remains. "My queen, you can_ revive_ him. I have sacrificed the child's blood and soul. He won't just be your Wight, you will be his mother again." Daenerys took a stuttering step towards what she realized were Drogon's ashes. She didn't even spare a look at the Children Of The Forest as she approached her son's remains, slowly.

She stepped carefully and deliberately, the snow feeling wonderful on her bare feet.

She thought about how badly she wanted to ride him. She reached out to touch them but she found she didn't have to. Her innate resurrecting ability began to interact with whatever blood ritual Kinvara had performed. She didn't make a sound but her lips parted in surprise as the remains began to shake and tremble. A foul scent filled the air, worse than the smell of a burned body. It was the scent of death covering the reforming bones of her dragon.

Horeo's sacrifice returned a little less than 40% of the dragon's flesh and muscle, hanging off of black bones. Blue lights shined in sunken eyeholes on the beast's exposed skull. He stood as giant as he had been in life. He screeched, a sound Daenerys' hadn't heard in what felt like forever. Drogon shot a stream of freezing fire in the air as it cried, leaning down to nuzzle it's mother once more.

She shut her eyes, for the first time in her life feeling true contentment. Kinvara and the Children watched in silence.

"I've brought you back with reason, my queen." Kinvara assured, bowing. "I will bow to no _raven_ on the throne." The look in her icy eyes gave her another chill, but Daenerys seemed to be open to her proposal. "You will have a kingdom and an army of the _whole world_! You will be The Great Uniter, The Breaker Of the Wheel!" She exclaimed passionately. "_Our Queen In The Night._" The stare in her eyes became proud. She could be Queen Mother, yet. She could understand the witch but her resurrection had left her unable to communicate.

Her link to Drogon was as strong as ever, maybe even stronger than in life. She remembered how the North almost fell against the previous Others, she would take the world on her will alone. She stood naked next to her reanimated dragon, looking around her in the blankets of white around her. She nodded, a movement so slight the priestess almost missed it. She smiled in relief, falling to her knees to in front of the dragon-rider.

One of the Children approached her cautiously, the Dragonglass extended. "Create your peers, my queen. Even your _love_." Daenerys looked down at the stone being offered to her, her mind clearly working. Nobody could resist a transformation like this, not even Jon Snow. She reached out and took the stone, and the forest nymph quickly retreated.

She stared at the stone in her frosty, blue hand. Slowly, she hand her fingers over it. Then, she clutched it tightly in her first.

* * *

Jon awoke suddenly with a strangled cry, Daenerys' face haunting his nightmares. He always saw her when he laid down, and she occupied his mind almost his every waking moment. Vaehna stood above him, seemingly watching him have nightmares. He exhaled, wiping a hand over his sweat covered face. She didn't say anything, just watched as he slowly regained control of his breathing. This hadn't been the first time he'd woken to this. He dreamt of Daenerys and his tumultuous life often. He never got a good night's sleep, not anymore.

He sighed, averting his eyes from the silvery streak in Vaehna's hair. Her time in the North hadn't lightened her olive skin any. She had been staying with Jon for weeks now and he was beginning to find her useful when he had nightmares. Turns out just being with someone _could_ help. He sat up after awhile. "Can't sleep either..." He asked, his voice tired. She shook her head no, green eyes straining to see him in the dark.

"Visions..." She murmured distantly. Jon's brow furrowed.

"_Dreams,_ child." He stood and approached the girl, glowering down at her. "Just spirited dreams." Vaehna smiled sadly.

"I know what I have, Griff." The patient smile slides off his face. It was time to be honest, and give the girl a chance to decide if she liked who he really was. If she liked _Jon Snow_. He frowned at her.

"I'm not _Griff._" He said suddenly, his eyes dark. Vaehna tugged the brown furs around her tightly, the silver streak in her hair not braided.

"Well, I figured as much." She sat down where Jon had been laying. "Who _are_ you?" She looked at him.

"I'm... I'm Jon Snow, Vaehna. Not _John_ Snow, the _Jon_ Snow." He folded his arms, a haunted look on his face. "I told the world of the threat of the Others, I secured Daenerys and her dragons to fight in The Great War, and..." His fist clutched tightly, his nails leaving red crescents. "And _I_ am the Queenslayer. I stabbed her after she burned King's Landing." He looked away from the girl, who couldn't have been older than 13 or 14. She was silent for a long moment.

"I knew that." She said after a while, catching his surprised stare.

"You _wha-_"

"I just knew. All the brooding, the self imposed_ exile_. You're not a Wildling, and you're not at The Wall." Her expression became melancholy. "I _knew_ it had to be something like that to send you all the way here." He pressed his mouth in a grim line, surprised at the girl's intuition.

"Well. I guess you were right." He grabbed some more furs and blankets and tossed them at her. "I understand if you want to leave, and I can get you through any weather. To the Wall. To the Wildlings..." She chased his stare, her eyes shining in the little light.

"I don't hate you for it, Jon." She chewed her lip, her fingers twiddling anxiously. "I-I don't know _why_, but I don't want to leave. N-Not..." She looked into his face. "Not yet." She finished. He tossed a look at the window to the blinding light of the snow. It was strange but she was beginning to feel a home, here. She'd never felt that before in her life. He thought about her habit for visions and fairly visible Targaryen lineage.

"Stay as long as ya want." He answered, rising and petting Storm. He opened the door and watched as the wolf bounded into the snowstorm. _'Lone wolf dies but the pack survives... I don't know if it counts for dragons, but we are related...'_ He dropped his stare before she noticed him studying her face. He turned his attention back to the hypnotic white of the snow. His dream tonight had been different. He felt the way he did right after his resurrection. Jon had never felt that way before or after._ 'What's happened out there...'_ He thought. Ten years of peace, he knew this realm was long overdue for danger._ 'I hope we're ready...'_ He thought to himself, Daenerys' face floating through the tendrils of his mind.


End file.
